


Her Dark Night

by Bowm8935



Series: The Power She Holds [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: AU, Anders is a sweetheart, Angst, Awkwardness, Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Romance, Hawke will have sex with anything that moves, Mentioned suicide attempts, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Slow Build, Spoilers, big brothers know best, carver sucks with girls, hawke is kind of an ass, in case that wasn't clear :), mentioned molestation, okay heres the smut, some plot changes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 60,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7097590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/Bowm8935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caydee was originally from Earth. When she died, she found herself transported to Thedas in a younger version of herself. After finally regaining her lost memories of her prior life, she awaits the next chapter of the story, while helping Anders in his clinic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to The Mage, The Girl and the Portal, but it's not necessary to read it first; it just gives more background to the story.
> 
> And yes, I am aware that I suck at titles. :)

"The itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out. Out came the sun and dried up all the rain, and the itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the spout again!"

I felt myself grin, my smile so wide it felt like it could split my face in two. Clapping, I congratulated the children in front of me for successfully singing a song from my childhood as well as completing the hand motions. I had taken it upon myself to entertain any of the young kids that accompanied their mothers to the clinic, and often that meant I would teach them nursery rhymes they were not familiar with. It was a poor replacement for what I lost, but nevertheless, I persisted. It always warmed my heart when Anders and I would walk through Darktown or Lowtown and hear the songs I taught in the distance. I was just happy to be able to bring some pleasure to these children who had nothing.

I glanced over to see how this particular group's mother was doing, and noted Anders seemed to be giving her instructions, a prelude to him dismissing her. "All right, kiddos. Time to pick up!" A groan left the older child's lips, but the two young ones gleefully started cleaning up. I tucked a piece of my thin auburn hair behind my ear, smiling. "Clean up, clean up, everybody clean up!" I sang, making it into a game. We picked up the homemade finger paints and put them back on the shelf, and took a wet cloth to wipe down their colored fingers. I handed each of them the picture they had painted and sent them over to their mother, who flashed me a thankful smile as she rounded them up and headed out. I walked over to the front and blew out the lantern, pulling the doors shut. A quick glance at Anders showed him sitting on a stool, head resting in his hands. It had been busy today with a new illness that reminded me of the flu making the rounds in Darktown, and I knew he had to be tired. He insisted on staying open until the last patient was seen, so we had worked far later than normal. 

I hurried over to him, taking his arm and maneuvering him to his bed. "I'm fine, sweetheart," he mumbled unconvincingly. As he pulled his hands away I saw just how pale he was, his normally bright amber eyes dark with exhaustion. I left him sitting on the side and quickly made him a couple of sandwiches consisting of stale bread and cheap meat, which he took gratefully. As he ate ravenously, I started to clean out the empty lyrium vials. We had gone through more today than usual, and the stockpile was getting a little too low for my liking. I made a mental note to head up to Lirene's in the morning to see if she could reach her contact to get us more, pronto. Setting the last container aside, I looked back in Anders' direction. He had finished eating and had already passed out on his bed. Tittering to myself about how he would waste away without me here, I went over and unbuttoned his coat, sliding it off of his shoulders. Thankfully, years of having to get sleeping children out of their clothes without waking them up allowed me to get him in a more appropriate state of undress for bed, and I covered him with his blanket. I hung up his coat while grabbing my cloak. It was time for me to head out to see what scraps I could get for food tomorrow.

One of the bad things about running a free clinic with a man who refuses to take money is that we never have the coin for food. Lirene supplies us with what she can for the necessities of taking care of the refugees, and I take on odd jobs here and there to pay for the lyrium potions. Occasionally we come back from our trips to the Wounded Coast or Sundermount with an abundance of herbs, allowing me to take the excess health potions and sell them. Even so, we never have much left over, so I have become accustomed to wandering the streets of Lowtown, getting the old bread from the bakeries and the meat and cheese that would normally be thrown out. The merchants know me, know that I work with the famous Darktown Healer, so they are usually waiting for me. It's not glorious, but it's better than nothing, and at least the food isn't rotten like I imagine I'd find rooting through the garbage.

I managed to come back with two loaves of bread, some goat cheese and more meat than usual. I wrapped them in cloth and set them inside the makeshift pantry, next to the cooling rune I had saved up for and purchased. I oftentimes missed the convenience that had been life on earth; refrigerators keeping food cool and good for days, hot showers, cars, elevators so you don't have to walk up damned steps all the time, modern plumbing... I sighed. It did no good to dwell on these things. We were able to survive while helping others and that's what mattered to us, in the end.

I picked up my phone from the table by my bed and sat down, staring at it. The lockscreen was a picture of my son and daughter, riding in his powerwheel. He had been five and she two when I died. Like every night, I swiped to open it and laid down, looking through the pictures and watching the videos of my beautiful children. Tears welled up in my eyes as she ran after him at the park, always trying to keep up with her older brother. Sniffing, I wiped the tears away and set my phone back where it was, rolling over and covering up under my thin blanket. I missed them like crazy. I knew it did not help to continue dwelling on the past, on what I had lost, but I couldn't help it. We were nearing the year mark of my time in Thedas, but I had only had my memory for about half that time. I spent my nights mourning the loss of my family and friends, while spending my days with a fake smile plastered on, pretending everything was peachy keen with me. 

Anders knew that I was not of this world. He was the one who found me originally, who helped me through my tough times. He was there when I first discovered I had the ability to absorb magic, the talent that caused my awakening, that brought my memories back, overwhelming like a tidal wave. He had listened when I needed him to, holding me and assuring me he was here for me. It was his concern that my background would cause me to end up locked in the Gallows that led us to living the way we do now. He has adopted my made-up last name -Pendragon, because Merlin was what popped into my mind when I tried to come up with one- and we now play at being brother and sister. It's not actually that hard, since he's become like a big brother to me. He still flirts a bit in private, but mostly he's too tired or distracted to anymore. 

If I slip up in public and say something alluding to being from another world, or use a turn of phrase too out of the ordinary, he'll don a tired smile and explain that his sister suffers from fits of delusion, believing she is from another world. The few times it has happened, the person I was talking to has instantly turned sympathetic, smiling sadly and patting him on the shoulder, wishing him luck with my difficulties. It has allowed me a certain amount of freedom, as well as taken some of the stress of our shoulders concerning my unique situation.

He has learned how to channel his electricity perfectly to charge my phone, so that I am able to look at my pictures for my nightly weeping sessions. I have some of my music on it too, from back on Earth. I had packed some headphones, so occasionally when the clinic is closed I'll sing along to my songs. I don't want to forget, so I am glad to have the ability to listen. I sometimes sing them during the day if something happens that reminds me, but no one usually pays me any mind. I'm just the crazy sister singing some weird, made-up music, and that's fine with me. 

Chiding myself for thinking so much at bedtime, I closed my eyes and shut out my distracting thoughts. Soon enough, I drifted off to sleep.

~*~

"I'm not sure he'll be back around for a few weeks, but I will see what I can do to get you what you need." I thanked Lirene and dropped one of my precious coins into her donation box, an act not missed by her. She shook her head, shooing me out the door. I stepped out into the sunlight in Lowtown and took a deep breath. Today was to be a short day at the clinic; we had agreed (or rather, I nagged at Anders until he gave up) that with all the extra healing he'd been doing lately due to the illness cropping up around town, it would be good for him to get out and take a break. So we planned to close shortly after midday and head out to the Wounded Coast to our favorite picnic spot. Winter had passed and it was warming again, allowing this excursion to take place. I had been saving up for a day like today, and had a few coins that I was planning on using to get a few special things for us to eat. It had been a while since we'd had pastries of any kind, so I stopped at the bakery and purchased a few of different varieties. Moving down the street, I stopped to purchase a bottle of cheap wine. May as well, even if it's just me drinking it. I tucked it all into my basket and worked my way down toward Darktown. I had been gone long enough that Anders probably opened the clinic without me. Not that he particularly needed me there, but I preferred to be around. When I wasn't handing him lyrium potions or babysitting, I would often help those who didn't need magical healing and occasionally put my massage therapy skills to use when he requested me to, which wasn't very often. 

As I reached the clinic, I sighed to see the line stretching out past the doors. Hopefully no one was too extensive so we had a chance at getting out of here. I took my basket back to my room and set it down, shrugging off my cloak. I pulled my frizzy hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of my eyes. I glanced quickly in the small mirror I had to make sure the cheap eyeliner I had on hadn't smudged. I felt that without my glasses, I needed something to draw attention to my eyes. Anders would laugh at me whenever I commented on it, saying I needed no such thing because they are large and beautiful, blue as the ocean, but I disagree. Satisfied with what I saw, I turned to head back out to the main room. I set my face into my polite mask and started helping Anders as best I could.

~*~

It was further past midday than I wanted, but finally the line had died down. I was quite relieved to see Anders take the last man and set him on the cot. As he started to work his healing magic, I headed to the front to put out the lantern. A small group of people-armed, but not templars so I wasn't concerned, as nobody was dumb enough to attack the Darktown Healer- passed me on my way and I rolled my eyes, figuring a few more can't put us back _that_ far, so may as well deal. I extinguished the lantern and shut the doors before stepping off to the side, reaching for the broom to start sweeping. Suddenly I felt the spark of hostile magic in the air, and I whirled around, grabbing my bow off of the shelf near me and nocking an arrow into it in one smooth motion. Anders had his staff up and at the ready, an angry look writ across his face. "I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation. Why do you threaten it?" As soon as the words left his lips, a shiver passed through me. I edged closer, looking at the group I had so easily dismissed upon entry. My eyes widened with realization at who I saw.

Shit. Had I really gotten so complacent with my life here that I had forgotten about the coming of Garrett Hawke?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr as StarlingHawke. Feel free to come visit!


	2. Chapter 2

He was every bit as gorgeous as I had ever imagined.

The game was old enough by the time I got around to playing it that the graphics were a tad outdated, and though still good, I always felt like they didn't do Garrett Hawke justice. I couldn't have been more right. He had to be at least six feet tall, with a broad frame and expansive shoulders. The robe he wore did nothing to hide the muscles rippling beneath it's sleeves. Dark brown hair fell upon his head, curling slightly as it touched his forehead. An impeccably trim beard followed his jawline, bridging over his upper lip. Beautiful brown eyes twinkled with mischief, a slight curve at the side of his lips. "Strange occupation for a Warden. Aren't you more about taint and death, not healing and salvation?" he replied in a voice filled with humor. A chuckle from behind, and my eyes swung over to the dwarf. _Varric,_ my mind helpfully supplied, as I noted the lush red and gold shirt cut low enough to allow a glimpse of ample chest hair. His blonde hair was pulled back half back, an amused look painting his features. Next to him was a redheaded woman with a shield on her back and a sword on her hip. She was only slightly shorter than Garrett and seemed to possess a rather frightening resting bitch face. _Well, hello there, Aveline._ I could see there was someone on the other side of her but was unable to glimpse who.

Anders sighed, lowering his staff. Wariness clouded his face as he looked at Garrett, his shoulders slumping a bit. "Did the Wardens send you to bring me back? I'm not going. Those bastards made me give up my cat." He paused for a moment, closing his eyes. "Poor Ser Pounce-a-lot. He hated the Deep Roads."

I was still frozen in shock, arrow pointed at Garrett's chest, when a different voice spoke up, sounding both bored and annoyed. "As fascinating as I'm sure _that_ story is, think the girl could quit pointing her bow at my brother?" Five sets of eyes swung my way, causing me to shakily let out a breath I wasn't aware I had been holding. Anders waved a hand at me to disarm and turned back to his conversation. I shook my head quickly, trying to clear out the cobwebs that had suddenly filled my mind. I sat my bow back on the shelf near me carefully, making sure to leave it within reach, just in case. I knew nothing went wrong with this meeting in the game, but this is real life and I couldn't rightly expect it all to go exactly the same. Especially since there was a new variable in play: me.

I turned around to find myself face to face with the most shocking blue eyes I have ever encountered. They shone brightly, framed by wisps of dark brown hair. A hand came up to brush the hair back, and I knew I was looking at Carver Hawke. He narrowed those enrapturing eyes at me, a smirk forming as I felt the blood rushing to my face. My, he was so much cuter in person. He was also much too close. I took a step back, lowering my gaze to the floor. When he didn't make any motion to move away, I shucked around him and quickly stood next to Anders. I had been caught off-guard with this whole encounter and it was showing, much to my dismay. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him move up to stand next to his brother, on the other side of the cot. I bit my lip and turned toward the conversation.

Anders was staring at Garrett with some exasperation evident across his face. "I will die a happy man if I never have to think about the blighted Deep Roads again. I'm not about to-" He stopped, a thoughtful expression taking over. After a moment, he continued, "Although...a favor for a favor. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I'll help you?" I reached out and snagged his hand, already aware of where this conversation was going. He rewarded me with a quick smile and a hand squeeze before describing the situation with Karl. 

There was some uncomfortable shuffling behind Garrett and someone muttering about going up against templars, but with a quick motion of his hand, Garrett silenced his companions. Gazing at Anders, he answered slowly. "All right, you've convinced me. What's your plan?" 

I listened in quietly as Anders laid out the plans we had so carefully constructed over the past few months. It had been a long shot, but we had made plans to break Karl out with just the two of us. Convincing Anders that we needed to break him out hadn't been hard, but getting him to take action quickly was. I had no intentions of letting them make the man Tranquil, consequences be damned. I had been learning how to stealth in the shadows for this mission, as well as been trying to train with daggers. Without a proper tutor, that last part was not coming along too well. I glanced at Carver a few times throughout the conversation to see him staring right at me, which would cause the blush to creep back up as I quickly looked away. I was considering how well this extra help might work to our favor when I realized what I had just heard escape Anders' mouth.

I jerked my hand back and faced him angrily. "You are NOT leaving me behind. I promised to help you with this, and help you, I shall." He opened his mouth to answer but I continued before he could. "No, I don't need to hear your reasons or your excuses. I am coming, no matter what you say." I fixed him with a hard look, lifting my head stubbornly, warranting a sigh. He ran his hands through his hair and chuckled quietly. 

"I suppose I should've known there was no way to get you to stay behind, sweetheart."

"Short of tossing me into the nearest portal and sending me back to Earth, you didn't stand a chance." I tossed back at him, before the reality of what I had just said sank in. Well, shit. I was hoping to not play the crazy card this soon.

Garrett cocked his head to the side. "Sending you back to where, now?" He was gazing at me with avid curiosity, and all I wanted to do was walk over to the nearest wall and give it a hug with my head. A hard hug. 

Anders placed a hand on my shoulder, shifting his face into the placating look I'd come to recognize as his acting. "Absolutely, I should have known that was the only option." He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before turning back to Garrett. "This is my sister, Caydee. After I left the Wardens, I tracked her down. We had kept in contact and our parents had been taken by the Blight. Upon finding her, I discovered that grief had driven her to having fits of delusion. She sometimes believes that she is from another world." He spoke softly, his voice a bit lower than normal, his pitiful voice. "Her fantasies are very detailed and convincing, but that's just what they are: fantasies. She is lucid a majority of the time, I'm sorry that you had to see this." 

Garrett looked at me, warring emotions on his face. "So she's crazy, and you're allowing her to come into a possible battle with us?"

I bristled, but Anders answered before I had the chance to. "She's amazing with her arrow, and is only dangerous to those who threaten to hurt us. I promise you, she is of no concern to you." He offered his hand to Garrett, who took it after a moment's contemplation. 

"Very well," Garrett said. "We will see you tomorrow evening then, at the 8th bell." He turned to leave, inclining his head slightly at Anders. "Until then, Serah." His companions turned to follow him, Carver being the last to leave. He was frowning, watching me with a look I could not decipher. I smiled weakly, lifting a hand as a farewell, and was mildly amused to watch him turn slightly pink before hurrying after his brother.

Behind me, Anders was pacing, muttering slightly under his breath. I sat on the cot and gazed at him with concern until he finally looked my direction. With a quiet groan, he came over to sit next to me. "I didn't ever want to think about the Deep Roads again," he said quietly. "But giving them my maps in exchange for help with Karl is a good thing, right?" His eyes searched mine, pleading for reassurance.

"Yes," I answered, giving him a quick hug. "This is a good thing." We sat there for a few minutes before I laughed softly. A quizzical glance was directed my way. "I was just thinking that our picnic is probably off, then, huh?" I teased. "It's a good thing I brought the food I bought home. We may as well eat it here and clean up. It sounds like we need to get our rest tonight to be ready for tomorrow." I stood up, stretching slightly before I retrieved basket. His eyes lit up when I handed him a couple of pastries. I took the wine and set it to the side; hopefully tomorrow night we would crack it open in celebration. I wasn't overly optimistic now that a Hawke was involved, but you never know, right?

~*~

"Oh, hell. Fuck. Damn. Shit on a cracker," I wheezed, throwing myself behind a nearby pole. We had made it to the Chantry too late. Karl was Tranquil, and I had known what that meant. Not that my foresight was worth much more than a 15 second warning. Anders still lost control, Justice bursting to the forefront, causing terror to cross the faces of both our allies and our foes. The game had left me unprepared as to exactly how many tempars there would be, though. Even with Justice using his staff as a makeshift sword while tossing spells, Garrett using his force magic, the two warriors swinging their weapons and the sweet songs of Bianca and my bow, we were still vastly outmatched. I nocked an arrow and quickly fired, taking down a templar archer above us. I flinched at the sound of body hitting the floor as it toppled over the railing, but I would deal with the consequences later. I was never meant to be a killer, and taking a life wreaked havoc on my emotions. The recovery from a night like tonight was not promising for a good time. 

I slipped into the shadows and moved further back, firing arrows to take out as many as I could. I tried to provide cover for Garrett from behind while the Aveline was watching his front. Carver didn't seem to have much of a strategy, just yelling and running at whoever was closest. As long as it worked, I wasn't going to criticize. After all, I was no expert on melee.

 _Twang!_ A bolt slid past me into a templar I hadn't seen sneaking up on me. I nodded my thanks to Varric and moved on, continuing to fire at those I could. Suddenly a pained yell filled the air, and I saw Garrett, white-faced, slide to the ground clutching his chest. One look at the man a few feet in front of me told me all that I needed to know: he had been hit with a combo Smite/Silence and would be useless for an unknown amount of time. Looking over at Anders, I saw Justice was starting to fight a losing battle as well. 

"Bloody fucking hell," I cursed, sliding my bow onto my back. I only knew one thing to do that might stand a chance at turning this around.

Over the past few months, Anders had been training me as best he could to hone my ability to funnel magic into myself. I was no true mage, but after channeling it out of someone or something, I could cast spells of varying power until I used up what I had absorbed. I had wanted to focus more on protection and some healing rather than the deadly spells, a wish he had honored because he understood. He had started laying glyphs on the floor and I would soak them up. Once I mastered that, we moved on to spells being directed at me. I found that with enough focus, I was like a magical sponge; as long as it was near me, I could take it, if I wanted. We hit a plateau about three weeks ago, one where I could not move forward without passing out. Initially, expending the energy I gained would cause my body such stress, it would shut down. Practice improved my resistance, and once I could reliably cast spells without fainting, we moved onto heavier magics. It was a fairly good procedure, though we had no real idea how to move past where I was stuck.

There was so much magic here, I could practically taste it. I knew I could change the direction of the battle, but I also was aware that this was well beyond what I had been trained for. Would this cause more permanent damage if I continued? I watched as Carver was cornered, swinging wildly but out of luck. Aveline was trying hard to keep soldiers off of Garrett but wouldn't last much longer. 

I squared my shoulders and moved toward the fray. I had no choice if we were to survive. Stopping a few feet shy of where Garrett lay panting, I closed my eyes and focused. I raised my hands, palm up, and opened myself up to the magic surrounding me. My blood turned cold and the familiar feeling of ice running through my veins told me I was absorbing at a quick rate. I heard a few templars shouting but paid them no heed; I needed to continue without distraction or all would be lost. I quickly passed the amount of magic I had held safely in the past, but didn't stop the flow. 

Then the world seemed to stop. 

My eyes flew open and I chanted quickly, bringing barriers up around all of my allies. I moved on to augmentation spells, allowing faster recovery for both mana and health. I tossed revitilaztion spells at Carver and Aveline, then channeled some of my makeshift mana into Garrett. Looking at me with a mixture of fear and awe, he stood and turned back to the battle. Renewed, we fought at a more frenzied pace, all the while I worked to keep the barriers up and everyone healed. 

Finally, it was over. I had worked my way toward Justice while the battle raged, so when he receded I was there to catch Anders. Normally I wouldn't be strong enough, but I still had magic within me and I used it to help me lower him to the ground, safely. Karl was on the floor, sputtering about being able to feel the Fade again. I laid my hands on Anders' temples and pushed some of my magical energy into him, allowing him the ability to stagger over to Karl. 

"Please, I can't go back to being Tranquil. Just kill me," the older man begged. I saw tears pooling in Anders' eyes. I laid a hand on his cheek and told him it was his choice.

"What would you do, in my position?" He cried, his hand covering mine as he watched Karl start to recede back to his Tranquil self. 

"I would put him out of his misery." He nodded, pulling a dagger out from his robe. He reached out to Karl, pulling him into a hug before sliding the dagger between his ribs. Tears streaming down his face, he laid Karl on the ground, apologies falling from his lips. I gently pulled him away, knowing we needed to leave the Chantry before more templars showed up. Once he stood and was ready to go, we ran like bats out of hell.


	3. Chapter 3

The earthy smell of elfroot filled my nose as I worked the plant's leaves into a fine powder. I had dismissed myself once we were back at the clinic, not really wanting to participate in what was sure to be a tempestuous discussion, if not a full-blown argument. I knew Anders could take care of himself, and if Hawke stayed true to character, he would eventually accept it. Varric I could trust to simply accept the fact of Justice inhabiting Anders once he knew he was a good man, and if needed, could talk Garrett down. Nonetheless, I had no desire to remain in a room with tension that high. My job would be after they left, comforting my friend who had just killed his past lover. Not necessarily a task I looked forward to, as I've always been awkward at best when it came to emotions. Frowning, I set the elfroot aside. I was working on a sleeping draught of my own concoction, a mix I myself used often to keep the nightmares at bay. While the Fade allowed for a different type of dreaming, that didn't necessarily mean it was better. The late hours of the night often held horrors involving my death and the loss of my children. This drink would knock me out cold, reducing my dreams to near nonexistence. I wasn't sure if Anders would want some or not, but I planned to have it ready, just in case. 

Footsteps heralded the arrival of another into my not-so-private corner of the clinic. We weren't able to afford to have real walls built to separate areas, so we hung up cheap curtains to block off our bedrooms and the area we used as both our kitchen and for potion brewing. Perhaps not the best combination, but as long as we kept it clean, there wouldn't be any problems. Unfortunately, the lack of real walls did mean that I could hear the heated discussion going on that I had attempted to escape, not to mention whatever went on in Anders' bedroom at night. Honestly, the latter was usually nightmares that I chalk up as mostly to him being a Grey Warden, but I wouldn't be surprised if there are some involving his experiences while in the circle. It also meant that I didn't have the option to shut and lock a door for privacy.

I opted to ignore whoever had chosen to trespass to my hiding spot, instead reached out to grab the bowl I was putting the ingredients in. I carefully added the elfroot, using a wet cloth to quickly clean the mortar and pestle. I rolled my eyes at the sound of shuffling and the quick intake of breath behind me; it seemed my visitor was having issues vocalizing whatever he or she wanted to say to me. After allowing the shuffling to occur for a few more moments, I decided that enough awkward had permeated the air and took pity. Turning around slowly, I watched as Carver swung his eyes up from the ground to meet mine, an intensity in them I had not seen before. A strange mix of emotions played over his face before he settled on a look of indifference. I quickly stepped back, hand gripping the side of the table, the air from my lungs exiting fast enough to cause a soft "oh!" to leave my lips. Embarrassed by my startled reaction, my face quickly caught fire. _What in the actual fuck, Caydee?_ I chided myself mentally. _Why are you acting like a teenage girl around this boy? You've been married before, for Christ's sake!_ It's not like I thought Carver was interested in me. I certainly wasn't interested in him. Not even if his eyes were so beautiful that I could lose myself in them, or if his dark hair looked so soft all I wanted was to run my fingers through it, or...oh, hell.

"Did you need something, Serah Hawke?" I asked in what I hoped was a polite tone. Hopefully he needed something like a healing potion, something I can give him and then shoo him away. God forbid he want anything more taxing, like a _conversation_. My eyes had focused on his deliciously bare arms seemingly of their own volition, and it was no small amount of effort required to tear them away from his muscles to look at his face. His face that currently housed a smirk, though I did notice the flicker of annoyance that occurred when I called him "Serah Hawke."

"Don't call me that!" He snapped, anger burning like coals in his eyes. Apparently I had hit a nerve in record time. Go me. " _Serah Hawke_ is my brother. I'm just Carver." He folded his arms over his chest and lifted his head slightly, a defiant look on his face. 

Oh shit. Oh no. That's just too good to pass up. I'll probably regret this, seeing as my humor is anything but funny, but... "My humblest apologies. Please let me try again," I curtsied low, glancing up at him from under the fringe of my hair, a mischievous smile overtaking my features. "Hullo, Serah Just Carver. How may I help you on this fine evening?"

He looked at me with confusion initially, but before long he must have gotten my bad, bad joke and he huffed out a short laugh. "Yeah, yeah, very funny. I set myself up for that one, didn't I?" I stood back up, a slight curl still on my lips, hoping my poor attempt at lightening the mood had worked. I could still hear some arguing coming from the other side of the clinic, but I still didn't have an answer as to why Carver was currently standing in front of me. I cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for some sort of explanation. Arms still folded, he watched me for a moment before finally continuing. "So. You're a mage then, huh? Fancy that, another one."

I stiffened in response to the petulant tone, narrowing my eyes. Carver had always come across as sort of a tit in the game, but I had been hoping to see a different side of him in person, to see that maybe he had some other mood as opposed to jealous, angry brother. Apparently I was going to be disappointed. Reminding myself that patience is a virtue, I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders before answering. "Not exactly, no. And before you ask," I pushed forward as he opened his mouth in rebuttal, "yes, I did do some magic in the Chantry, but no, that doesn't not automatically qualify me as a mage. I don't have mana, nor the ability to cast spells under normal circumstances. I have to be in an area thick with magic to be able to conjure it up. I absorb the energy of it, then twist it to my own devices. It's best if I gain it directly, such as having a spell cast at me, or if I step onto a glyph, but I can use the remains that are left in the air if completely necessary. That is what was required of me tonight. But once I use up what I have gained, it's gone. I do not replenish it like a mage replenishes mana." I paused for a moment, letting it sink in. "Typically I use my bow in battle because I cannot depend on there being enough of it about to make use of. Which is completely fine with me, honestly. I'm not a big fan of "maybes" and I don't like the aftereffects I feel once it's over. The only good I feel comes from it is my ability to use protection and healing spells for a short amount of time. Anders alone doesn't usually generate enough to let me draw it from the air around us, but your brother seems to leak magic. Add in the templars using their brand of magic via smites and silences, and bam. A ton of magic for me to siphon." I made a large gesture meant to encompass a room full of magic.

"What happens when you use it all up?" He asked, studying my face carefully. Despite the rather large motherlode I had just dropped on him, he seemed to be keeping up well. Interesting. I had gotten the impression that Carver was just a big, dumb brute. Maybe he was smarter than the writers (and I) gave him credit for.

"It varies on how much I get. Very small amounts hardly affect me anymore, but the more, the worse off I am. I get weak, light headed, and have been known to collapse. Invariably I always get a headache and nauseated. If I take in much past a certain amount, I will black out."

He took that moment to look me over closely from head to toe. "You don't seem to be any of that at the moment." His tone told me that he didn't believe me, which I understood. I did seem completely fine, after all.

I gave him a lopsided grin. "Tsk tsk, are you saying that you can see if I have any ailments, even those invisible to the naked eye? What a talent that is! You much teach me." He frowned, obviously not taking to my joke. I sighed. "Fine, stay annoyed. No, I am not currently suffering any of those issues because I have not expended all that I absorbed."

"Why the hell not?" He backed away, alarmed. What did he think I was going to do, turn him into a frog? Seriously, men sometimes. I rolled my eyes.

"Quit being so fidgety, I have no intention to use it on you. Especially without permission. Sheesh." Grumbling, I turned back to the draught and continued to work on it. "Think about it, Carver. I knew we still had to walk back to the clinic, plus Anders just killed one of his oldest friends. My night is a little too booked for me to just pass out without any second thoughts. I'll wait until you all have gone home and Anders is asleep, then I will do my thing. Besides," I added quietly, about to voice a fear that I had been nursing since the battle. "I have never absorbed so much before. I'm not sure what will happen, really. Might be that my body says enough is enough and I give up the ghost."

"Give up the ghost?" 

"Right, sorry. Not one of your sayings. It means die. I may have finally pushed myself past the point of no return, and it might be the end of me." I shrugged, playing at nonchalance. "Not the night I would've liked to had, mind you. I have some cheap wine in the back that I would have _loved_ to get into and be five sheets to the wind right now." A quick glance at Carver showed I had used another phrase he wasn't familiar with. "Drunk. Very, very drunk." My inner turmoil was my own, and I had no intentions of letting him see just how much the prospect upset me. I'd already died once, the prospect of it happening again didn't thrill me. Especially not so soon after Karl... I wasn't convinced Anders could handle losing two people he cared about in such a short amount of time.

He was watching me again, I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head. I was saved from wondering if he'd respond by the sound of more people joining our little soiree- apparently "the talk" was over. Good, because my eyes were started to burn with the effort of holding back tears, and the last thing I wanted was to break down in front of someone I didn't know much at all. 

"Come on, brother, it's time to go home. I think we've met our excitement quota for the day," I heard Garrett speaking to Carver and ignored them, pretending to be too busy to be bothered. The sound of footsteps heading toward the front of the clinic drifted to my ears, and I started to relax. Soon I could get Anders to bed and then just let it out. 

"Right, well then, I'll just be leaving." Oh, he was still here. Shit. A shuffling of feet, and a hesitant hand touched my arm. I flinched unconsciously away from the unexpected touch, causing the hand to jerk back. "Right. Um. Well, don't die, please. Maybe I'll see you soon." I nodded stiffly and listened as he joined the others and the door slammed shut. Frozen in place, my thoughts were racing. _What just happened?_ I gently touched the spot where his hand had been, considering. A soft chuckle broke my reverie as Anders approached from the side.

"So you ran away and left me to do all the difficult explaining myself. And to flirt, no less," he joked, though it was obviously forced. His smile was tired, and it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, at least he's cute."

"And much too young for me," I added. He looked at me in shock before bursting into laughter, real laughter this time. "What? It's true," I protested. "He's only, what, 18? 19? Something ridiculously young? I'd be robbing the cradle since I'm at least 10 years older than him." I wrinkled my nose at that thought; while I wasn't necessarily against age gaps, such a thing had never been interesting to me personally.

"That may have been true once, but you're much younger now. Your body seems to believe it, too, is only around 18. And did I mention that he's cute?" he teased, poking me in the ribs. 

"Be that as it may, my _mind_ is still nearing 30. So, cradle robber. But thanks for that," I said, feeling my face heating up once more. Ugh. I hated blushing. 

"Okay, okay, I'll drop it. But that means we have to address more serious issues. Like the fact that you have not expended all of your magic yet." I looked down at the floor, ashamed. He had so much on his mind already, he didn't need to be worried about me. A finger crooked under my chin and pulled me up to look at him. "Hey, it's okay. Let it go so I can see what we need to do. I just hope this wasn't too much for you to handle." His amber eyes were colored with concern, and I couldn't take it anymore. The dam burst and I was in his arms, crying. I hate crying. Have I mentioned how much I hate it? Ugh.

"Hush now, it's okay, sweetheart. We'll make it through whatever happens." He stroked my hair, holding me firmly to his chest. "It will all be okay." 

I shook my head. "No," I said meekly through my tears. "This is not how this is supposed to go. You've had a hard enough night, you don't need my breakdown on top of it, and you certainly don't need to worry about the consequences of my actions. I was stupid, I shouldn't have done it. I knew the risks but I thought it was the right thing to do. I'm so sorry, Anders," I sobbed into his chest. "I'm sorry, I should be the one comforting you tonight."

"Caydee Pendragon, stop it right now! It is not your job to tend to me, I am a fully grown man. I knew that what happened tonight was a possibility, whether or not I wanted it. Not a single bit of it is your fault. We'd all be dead without your intervention. So please stop with this self-deprecating behavior. Let me take care of you. Please. Because I could not bare to lose you as well." His voice caught in the last sentence, his emotion betraying him. "Let me help you." 

Resigned, I nodded. "Thank you," he whispered, hugging me tightly before lifting me up and carrying me to my bed. I squawked at being carried, but my protests fell on deaf ears as he gently laid me down. He sat next to me, his hand brushing my hair out of my face. Leaning down to plant a kiss on me cheek, he whispered, "now, Caydee. Release it now, and let me help you past this." Weakly, I nodded, terrified of what the outcome would be. His presence offered me both comfort and courage, so I raised my hands and conjured a ball of light, holding it steady while I felt the magic tick away inside of me. After a bit it sputtered a few times before winking out of existence completely. 

The room immediately started spinning and I closed my eyes, groaning as my gut twisted. Pain erupted through my muscles, and my head felt like it was going to split in two. Anders placed one hand on my cheek, rubbing his thumb along my jaw while clutching my hand with his free one. I would have killed for some healing magic to soothe the pain and nausea, but past experience said that in this state, my body's natural response was to suck it in and hold it instead of letting it do its work. So instead, I felt everything until it became too much and the sweet blackness crept in, sending me into the oblivion of unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope some people are actually enjoying this. I'm a bit out of practice with my writing. Haven't written any fanfiction in over ten years. Forgive me! Also, I don't have a beta so I'm doing my own editing. 
> 
> I'll take any advice!

I awoke with the distinct feeling of being trampled by a herd of druffalo. Groaning quietly, I sat up on the side of the bed, reaching up and massaging my temples. This headache was by far the worst I'd experienced yet. My eyes throbbed as I tried to focus through what seemed to be the blinding light of the morning, though from what I could realistically tell, it was actually late afternoon. Elfroot. I needed elfroot, now. 

I stumbled out of bed and wobbled my way to the messy kitchen. There were vials everywhere, some empty, some not. Bowls were haphazardly piled up in the corner, some looking crusty enough that I shuddered. The counter we generally mixed potions on was covered with a small layer of green, like someone had emptied their lawnmower's bag on it. The clinic must have been really busy for Anders to let it get this bad, even without me. But still... how long had I been out? I immediately procured a few leaves of elfroot from an alarmingly low stash and popped them in my mouth. I moaned loudly in appreciation as the pain started to recede with the quick action of the plant. 

"Andraste's ass!" a voice swore, followed by a crash. I spun around much too fast, my body reeling with the effort and the room dancing before my eyes. Blinking blearily, I saw a figure bend down to pick up a box filled with bandages near the table. As I peered at the offending person to figure out who it was, my cheeks filled with color. I glanced down in alarm, keenly aware that I was only wearing a breastband and smalls. With the curtains blocking off the clinic from our living areas, I didn't typically have to worry about being seen by anyone other than Anders. Getting dressed had been far from my mind when I chose to deal with this headache. Painfully regretting that decision, I watched as none other than Carver Hawke approached the table carefully, looking like a deer in headlights. 

"Most guys take a girl out before trying to catch her with her clothes off," I lamely said, trying to rid the moment of its awkwardness. It had the opposite effect, as now _he_ turned a deep, crimson red and jerked his gaze to the floor, muttering under his breath. I took the opportunity to dart back into my room and rapidly pulled my favorite green dress over my head. I wore it too much, probably, seeing how the once new material was starting to fade and thin in places, but it was comfortable. It was also long enough to cover my knees but not so long as to get in my way should I need to be in battle suddenly. That's important too, you know. 

Glancing in the looking glass I had hanging like a mirror, I pulled my bedhead up into a semi-decent bun. Satisfied that I didn't look _quite_ as much like a (naked) hobo as before, I stepped back out into the kitchen. Carver was still standing by the table, head down, face blazing, though he had at least set the box of bandages down. I was desperately wishing for some tea to help soothe my aching body more, but with no Anders around to heat up the water, it would be cold and that just wouldn't do. So I settled on grabbing a few fresh leaves of elfroot, a couple of glasses of water and, wincing, lowered myself into one of the chairs near Carver. I motioned for him to do the same, which he did after a few moments of what appeared to be a spectacular internal debate. He laid his hands restlessly on his lap, fidgeting. His hair was shaggier than I remembered it, just long enough for the back to skim the nape of his neck. The beginnings of a beard had graced his handsome face, and I noted some slight darkening under his eyes. Frowning, I took a sip of my drink, wondering why he looked like he hadn't been taking care of himself. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he shook his head, seeming unsure speaking his mind.

"Carver," I leaned forward, gently pushing the glass of water his way. His eyes flickered to it and then met my gaze for a moment before returning to his lap. "Carver," I repeated again, in a softer tone. "You look like a fish trying to breathe out of water, and with about as much panic. Whatever it is you want to say, say it. I promise, I won't bite. Well, not unless you ask me to," I added, giving him a wicked smile. _Flirting? Really?_ I'm not usually one to flirt. I get awkward, I turn colors, and I ultimately blurt out something that makes no sense. Yes, I'm that type of girl. So this... this was a little weird, but it seemed like it just flew from my mouth before I could consider it.

He huffed quietly. "I'm not sure how to talk to you," he said, his voice low. I shivered at the slight huskiness there, choosing to ignore the way my traitorous body was responding. 

"Like a person, duh," I joked. "How else would you talk to me?" Bad humor to break the ice, my way of making a situation worse. Worth a shot, though. 

He shifted in his seat, taking a sip of the water I gave him. After a pregnant pause, he finally made eye contact again. "I've... been thinking about what you told me. About you not being a mage, but being able to suck up magic and throw it at people?" I nodded, chuckling a bit at his terminology, but wary of where this was going. "I've decided it's okay," he stated in a matter-of-fact voice, almost as if I had asked for his permission to have this talent. My eyebrows shot up, giving away my surprise at his declaration. Surprise that I think he misinterpreted as anger. "Not that it's up to me or anything, or that it even matters what I think," he continued quickly, panic creeping into his words. "I just thought you'd like... I mean, I wanted to... oh, Maker. I'm going to shut up now," he closed his eyes, a pained expression flitting across his face. "I always end up making a fool of myself."

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. His eyes flew open and he looked at me in bewilderment, before they hardened and a sneer cropped up. "Well, I'm glad that _you_ found my failings funny. Just like my stupid brother," his tone dripping with disdain. I briefly wondered if he was even aware of how childish he sounded. He stood up and turned on his heels, marching stiffly toward the door.

"Carver, wait!" I called, my hand reaching out for him. He halted abruptly a few steps before the curtain that separated us from the clinic, shoulders tense. _Oh, shit,_ I thought, rubbing my eyes. _Why do I always have to piss people off without trying?_ "I wasn't laughing at you."

"Oh really? Because that's exactly what it sounded like." 

"No, I wasn't, so please come sit back down." I sighed, twirling a piece of my hair absentmindedly. "I thought it was cute, that you were worried about offending me. I assure you, it takes more than that. Plus, you remind me of myself. Backing myself into a corner and not able to sufficiently talk my way out of it." He had turned around while I was rambling, eyeing me cautiously, as though he didn't believe me. I knew he was the jealous younger brother, but what in the world did Garrett do to him behind closed doors? "Please," I tried again. "I don't want to be alone right now." I was speaking in a hushed tone now, distressed because I _really_ didn't want to be alone. I had no idea how much time had passed, or if Anders was okay, or anything, and it was not a pleasant feeling.

He inhaled quickly, guilt welling up in his eyes. "Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't... Ugh. Look, I'm not good at this, okay? Talking, I mean. I tend to say stupid shit and get myself in trouble. Or I can't take a joke, or I just completely fuck it up." He had walked back to the table and was gripping the chair so tight his knuckles had gone white. "I'm here because everyone else left on a job and your brother didn't want you to be alone if you woke. Said something about anxiety issues, so here I am, alright? Not the best choice, probably just going to make everything worse, but there you have it." I could see his nerves were really stripping away at him, and it hurt my heart a bit to watch him struggle. 

"It's okay, Carver," I whispered. "I'm glad to have your company." He blushed again, moving the chair out a bit before dropping into it with a "umph!" I looked down at my water, hands encircling the cup as I worked up the courage to ask the one question I was afraid to. "Just... I'm going to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me." I caught his eyes, wide and full of apprehension. He bowed his head, motioning for me to continue on. "How much time has passed since the night at the Chantry?"

He gawked at me, mouth open, as though he hadn't expected me to ask. "It's uh, well," he started, hands tapping nervously at the table. "It's been three weeks."

"Three weeks!" I exclaimed in alarm. I had presumed it was only a matter of days; incorrectly, as it seems. My hand flew to my head as the world tilted sideways, and I heard the scuffling of a chair before there were hands on my shoulders, holding me upright. 

"Caydee? Are you okay?" His voice was edged with concern, and I reached out to him to try to ground myself. I groped blindly until I found his shoulders, shuddering with the effort of trying to keep myself together. _Three weeks. Holy hell, no wonder this place has gone to shit,_ I thought. So that explains the state of the room around me. But why was Carver looking so wrecked? Surely not...?

"How long have the others been gone?" I whispered, not sure I really wanted to know the answer. I felt his back go rigid, not a very reassuring sign. "Carver," my voice was thick with emotion, "how long have you had to take care of me?"

"It's been a week. They went up to Sundermount to deliver the stupid amulet that witch gave us. I knew it was evil, we shouldn't have taken it. Now they've been gone for a week and I don't know what to do." His tone was subdued, scared. 

"No," I cried, afraid of what that meant. I leaned forward, resting my head against his chest as I struggled to hold back the tears. His arms froze for a moment before slowly wrapping around me, pulling me closer. He smelled of leather, sunshine and sword oil, a combination that soothed me slightly. We sat there for a while, me taking in his scent, fighting to keep my emotions in check, his arms holding me tightly. Eventually I sniffed a little and pulled back, shyly smiling. "I'm sorry for that," I said, casting my eyes to the floor.

"No need to apologize. I get it," he said, standing up and stretching his legs. "But Anders did give me strict instructions to make sure you ate and got cleaned up a bit if you woke, so we better work on that. Uh... I don't cook and there doesn't seem to be much here anyway, so I'll just go grab some stew from the Hanged Man and bring it back. That sound okay?" At the inclination of my head, he grinned suddenly. It was quick, gone in a flash, but bright as the morning sun and filled me with warmth. I vowed to make him smile more, if for no other reason than I'm selfish and wished to see it again. "I should also stop and tell Lirene that she doesn't need to come by to, uh, clean you up. So...I'll be back, then." And with that, he was out the door. 

I watched him leave, finger tapping softly on my lips, a smile forming slowly. Maybe there was something under that mask of insolence and annoyance, after all.

~*~

A couple more days had went by with still no sign of Anders, Garrett, Varric or Aveline. I was itching to go after them, but Carver insisted that we wait a little longer, to make sure that I had made a full recovery. I'll admit that I snapped at him a few times, because I felt that three weeks is plenty of time to recover. He had stubbornly held his ground, refusing to back down until he was convinced I could handle such an excursion. He wouldn't even let me open the clinic to help with minor wounds, so set was he on my health. It was endearing...and also very annoying. We spent a good portion of our days telling stories of our past (mine limited to what I had encountered in Thedas, mostly), and he taught me how to play Wicked Grace and Diamondback. I caught on fairly quickly, but he was actually not very good at either of them. This led to some sulking that could rival that of a toddler told no, so I shooed him away for part of a day with the excuse that he needed to go bathe himself, shave and get his hair cut. He grudgingly left, after making me promise that I wouldn't go sneaking off without him.

I was dancing around singing, cleaning up the mess that had accumulated during my vacation into my unconscious. I had started in the kitchen, washing vials, cleaning down the counter and rearranging everything to an order which made sense. After that, I moved on to the clinic itself, which was a much more daunting task, as the sheets were messy, some of the cots had broken and there was blood everywhere. But I attacked it with conviction, determined to get it all as clean as I could. I had pulled on my too-large Earth jeans (held up by a rather fetching pair of homemade suspenders made just for cleaning days-just kidding, they're quite ugly), slipped my phone into my pocket and just let songs play at random through my headphones. Oblivious to the raucous I was making, I was singing along loudly and happily. Again, if anybody passing by the clinic heard me, they'd just shake their heads in amusement and pity poor Anders with his crazy sister, so what did I care if the volume was a bit excessive?

I was in the process of fixing the cots when Maxwell's Silver Hammer by the Beatles came on, and I gleefully grabbed one of the less-than-impressive hammers we owned. Holding it out in front of me, I varied between using it as a microphone and as the weapon, jumping around in a silly manner.

 _"Bang, bang, Maxwell's silver hammer came down on her head!"_ I hit the nearest cot with the hammer three times. _"Bang, bang, Maxwell's silver hammer made sure that she was dead!"_ Next was the shelf, and I tapped it three times as well. Spinning in a circle, I about fell over when I noticed I was not alone. Standing by the curtain to the kitchen with an extremely amused look on his face was Carver. His hair was back to the length that it was when I first saw him, wet still from being washed, his face looking soft and smooth once more. So he had taken my advice about getting cleaned up. I stopped, debating for a moment what my next move would be. I could quit singing and let the embarrassment roll over me, or... oh, yes.

I sashayed over to him, one corner of my mouth turned up. He raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by my ridiculousness. I circled him, obnoxiously exaggerating every movement, continuing the song until the chorus came on again, at which point I changed the name in the song. _"Bang, bang, Carver's silver hammer came down on her head."_ I stopped in front of him, staring through half-lidded eyes into his sapphire ones, my voice quieting to a near whisper. I leaned in close, speaking almost into his ear. _"Bang, bang, Carver's silver hammer made sure that she was dead."_ While the subject matter was hardly romantic -in fact, it's downright depressing, and certainly not appropriate for flirting- the closeness of my dancing seemed to affect him more than anything. His eyes darkened as he watched me, hand snaking out to the small of my back to bring me flush against him. I gasped at the feeling, heat pooling in my belly. I hadn't realized how much I wanted to be close to him... or perhaps I had been conveniently tucking it away in the back of my mind because it was a subject I didn't want to deal with. Frowning slightly, he reached out and gently tugged the earphones out of my ears, his brow knitting together as he tried to make sense of them. I shook my head, not something I had the patience to explain with him _so close._ I peeked up at him from under the wisps of hair that had fallen loose, tongue darting out to wet my suddenly drip lips. His eyes flicked down to watch for a moment before returning to gaze into mine. I shivered, the want in his eyes was overwhelmingly delicious. I reached up and slid my hand through his hair, marveling that it was every bit as soft as it looked. Inhaling, I took in that smell, of sunshine, sword oil and leather, combined with the slight scent of soap. A hand cupped my cheek, and angled my face slightly towards his, head dipping down to bring our mouths together in what I was sure would be a sizzling kiss. A brush of lips, and then...

"Carver!" A loud, boisterous voice called out into the room. Groaning, Carver released me and hastily pulled back, regret flashing briefly over his face before it went back to the mask of irritation he so often wore. The door to the clinic banged open and in strolled Garrett, disheveled but still handsome as ever. He spotted us and made his way over. "There you are, little brother. Be glad that you got to stay behind to play babysitter, that was nothing less than a shit show."

Carver pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, I assume reaching for patience. "Why do you always manage to get into trouble?" He asked, tone full of disbelief.

Garrett flashed him a winning smile. "Trouble is my middle name. I'll tell you all about our trip over some drinks at the Hanged Man. C'mon, let's go, Varric is waiting for us." Without a second glance in my direction (or any glance, if we are being honest here), he tugged on Carver's arm and sauntered back out. Carver looked at me over his shoulder, an apologetic smile playing across his flushed features before he joined his brother. 

I rocked back on the heels of my feet, biting my lip, waiting for who I wanted to see. I was not disappointed. Looking like he hadn't slept in days, Anders strode into the clinic, eyes brightening when he saw me. "You're awake!" He cried, dropping his bag and rushing over to envelop me in a warm hug. I laughed and hugged him back, tears cropping up out of happiness. He pulled back, examining me with worried eyes. "I wasn't sure you were going to come back to me," he said quietly, and I saw the despair that was buried deep in those amber eyes. "Come, let me give you a check up."

"Oh no, I don't think so," I said, pushing him away. "You look like hell. Get your ass to bed, _brother_ , and check me out in the morning when you have rested." I used my mom voice on him, fists on my hips and eyes looking at him sternly. He chuckled, acquiescing without an argument. Softening my look, I reached out and hugged him again. "I missed you," I said into his feathered pauldrons. "When I woke up and Carver told me how long I'd been out, and that you guys were on a job but hadn't come back yet, I was scared." To be honest, I had been downright terrified, but I didn't feel the need to let him know the depth of my fear. He didn't need that, not after everything he had obviously endured.

"It was a rather... enlightening experience," he said softly. "We were to deliver an amulet to the Dalish camped outside of Kirkwall, some deal Garrett had made to get his family out of Ferelden during the blight. The Keeper sent us up to the top of Sundermount with her First to perform a ceremony, and surprise! There was a _person_ in the amulet. Flemeth, to be exact. A witch of the wilds." His mouth turned down as he continued with the story, "The First of the Dalish clan ended up being a blood mage. For some insane reason, Garrett agreed to bring her back, so she's now living in the alienage. The trip itself took longer than we expected, but adding on bringing someone back with us who we weren't expecting? That just made it worse. But we're back now, and that's all that matters." His shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and I peeled myself away finally. 

"Let's get you to bed, Ser Sleepypants." Laughing, he allowed me to lead him to his bed. He gave me a kiss on the cheek before starting to peel off his clothes. "Goodnight, Anders," I said, my lips curving up. "I'll see you in the morning." I turned and slipped behind the curtain into my room.

I heard him settle into bed. "Goodnight, sweetheart." And with that, he was out.


	5. Chapter 5

_Jump, slash, spin away. Fall back, feint right, quick jab left._

In a flurry of movement, I was pinned up against the wall, a wooden dagger pressing under my ribs. "Mmm, sweet thing, _this_ is a fun position," a sultry voice whispered into my ear. Hot breath on my neck, then a chuckle and the pressure eased from my chest. Panting from exertion, I watched as the beautiful pirate in my midst stepped away, twirling her daggers. Dark hair held out of her eyes by a blue headband cascaded down her shoulders, her brown eyes thoughtful. "You are improving at a quick rate, but we still have a bit to go before you can fight in a battle." Sliding her daggers into their sheaths, she pulled out a small leather pouch and tossed it to me. "Time for a lesson in picking locks."

I caught the pouch, opening it up to see a myriad of tools I was not familiar with. A dark hand motioned me toward a chest, and I stepped forward. She crouched down, explaining the process (I thought tumblers was just a type of blog, not something in a keyhole?) and showing me how to go about it. I carefully followed her instructions, drawing my bottom lip between my teeth in concentration. After a little struggling, a click sounded and I hesitantly reached out to lift open the lid. When it swung up, she clapped her hands in delight. "Well done!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. I marveled at how the flimsy tunic she wore managed to not only hide all the important lady bits down under, but somehow contained the ample bosom she flaunted at every possible moment. It was nothing short of magic.

"If it's all the same, Isabela, I think I need to get some water and maybe something to eat before we continue training," I said, wiping the sweat still lingering on my brow. My mouth was dry and my muscles aching; apparently I was not in as good of shape as I let myself believe. I made a mental note to start jogging...somewhere... to try to get used to all this _moving_. The nice thing about being an archer and occasional magic usurper was that you basically stand back, only dodging to avoid attacks. Nice, yes...but apparently not helpful when it comes to the endurance needed to dance with daggers.

She folded her arms under her breasts, sizing me up for a moment before answering. "Actually, I think we'll call it a day. From what I was told, you haven't been awake all that long and Anders certainly insists that I take it easy on you."

I shook my head, smiling exasperatedly. "Of course he does. Big brother always knows best." She arched an eyebrow, eyes alight with laughter. "Hey," I started, mirroring her posture. "You never mentioned how you knew that I wanted to train in the first place." It had been a couple of weeks since she had shown up out of the blue, introducing herself and tossing me the wooden sparring daggers we used. Without any explanation, she had immediately taken me down to the ground, amused at my surprise and lack of reaction. Helping me up, she had started showing me techniques, and I submitted to her lessons. It was, after all, something I had been wanting to do for a long time, but had never been able to master on my own. I had been searching my mind, trying to figure out what brought her here, but as I kept coming up with blanks, I had finally decided to ask her.

"Well, that's a simple one. The pup sent me. Carver," she clarified at my confused expression. 

"Oh," was all I could muster. With a wave, she swaggered over to the exit, winking and blowing me a kiss as she left. I sat down on the nearest cot, setting the pouch of lockpicks she had left behind (shoot, I have to remember to return those to her) next to me, considering what she said. _Carver_ had sent her to me. That meant he had not only been listening while I was talking about my desire to learn back when I was still in recovery, but that he _remembered._ I didn't know which concept I was more shocked at.

Ever since our near kiss the night the crew returned, he had been avoiding me. I might have normally chalked up this thought to paranoia- something I am prone to- but not when I had solid proof. Not only did he never stop by to talk or see how I was doing, but anytime Garrett brought his motley little band along to ask Anders for help, if Carver was there, he'd avert his eyes with a slight blush. It almost seemed like he was _ashamed_ of what had happened...well, almost happened. I wasn't sure how to take his behavior, but it stung more than a little. I had been under the impression we were getting along well, maybe even becoming friends, before that moment. Did I ruin it by getting too close, or did he perhaps have the same fear? I didn't know, and the questions haunted me. 

I wanted to discuss this with Anders, because as the days passed he became less like the friend I had made, stumbling along the side of the road trying to get away from some urchins, and more like the brother I never had. Maybe it was due to the game we played, but I didn't care. He was always there for me, with his kind words and reassuring hugs. I knew he had been in some relationships in the past- never very long, obviously- but he had at least had one with Karl for a decent amount of time. I wanted to get his advice on how to proceed with this. Even if Carver wanted nothing more than friendship (though I doubted that was all) I would be fine with it. I didn't have anyone other than Anders to talk to, and I had vastly enjoyed our time together.

Regardless, I couldn't speak with Anders at the moment. He had left- again- with Garrett to go help him track down some bandits that had been preying on the alienage. He seemed to split his time evenly these days between the clinic and running around on adventures. It was good for him to get out, especially with someone who seemed okay with his... guest, but I missed him. Not only that, but I was never invited along on these excursions. In fact, Garrett never acknowledged my presence. I vaguely wondered if my "crazy" made him uncomfortable, but that was not an excuse to treat me as though I didn't exist.

Sighing, I set about placing the cots back to where they normally were, having moved them to make a little sparring circle for Isabela and me. Glancing at the sun, I figured that I had enough time to take a quick bath and get ready to go out tonight. It was Wicked Grace night at The Hanged Man, something I generally was not invited to. Anders had asked me to accompany him, insisting that I was welcome. I knew he often turned down going himself to stay home with me, and my guilt had led me to say yes. I was apprehensive of how the night would go, being around so many people after such a long time of just the two of us. Especially when that group included someone who acted like I didn't exist and his brother who, outside of the persistent reddening of his face when I was around, was following suit.

Our bathtub was far from glamorous. We had procured it from Kirkwall's version of a thrift store (except the items were in much, much worse condition than I was used to) and had slowly fixed it enough that it did the job. The inside was now patched up, free of any sort of rust that had built up. The outside was a deep bronze color with a pattern so faded it was hard to tell what it once was. Pulling it next to the fire, I filled it only about halfway full of water. Without magic, there was no quick way to heat the water, and letting it sit by the fire takes far too long to heat up a full tub. I'm not the most patient sort and I hadn't planned ahead to get it ready _before_ training, so half full it would be. Enough to wash down, that's what mattered.

Leaving the tub to warm, I went to my room and approached the corner where my clothes hung. I didn't have much, coin being hard to come by, but I had saved up and bought a new dress right before the Chantry incident. I fingered the soft sky blue cotton, enjoying the feel of the fabric. I didn't get to buy new things often, but when I decided to, I saved up for something that I liked. Clothes had been something I took for granted back on Earth, and I missed the days when I could just hop in my car and drive to Walmart to buy a new shirt without a second thought. I hadn't realized how lucky I was monetarily until I came here, with Anders. Only then did I truly understand what it meant to be poor.

I pulled the dress off the hook and held it to my chest. It was cut with a circular neck, just high enough that I didn't have to worry about too much cleavage showing but low enough that I didn't have to bear the feeling of cloth on my neck. The sleeves were cut short, long enough to cover the tops of my arms. The dress fit snugly to the top of my body, loosening up at the waist to billow out around my hips and thighs. The skirt brushed the top of my knees, a bit of simple lace trimming the bottom. Smiling, I set it on my bed and pulled down a ragged towel, moving back to the tub. I pulled the brown tunic I was wearing over my head and tossed it to the ground, unlacing my leggings to go with it. I had found that while training with Isabela, it was better to be in form-fitting clothes, lest I get caught on something. As I finished undressing, I stepped in the tub and lowered myself into the lukewarm water. I should have waited longer, but again, I'm not incredibly patient. I relaxed for a few moments, letting the water lap at me, closing my eyes.

~*~

"Sweetheart, time to get dressed. We need to leave soon," a voice hummed above me. I blearily peeked up to see Anders standing over me holding out the towel, smiling softly. I groaned, my muscles unhappy with the position I had left them in. Sitting up, I quickly wiped down my exposed portions and dragged my hair through the now-chilly water. Standing up, I wrapped the towel around me and accepted the hand offered, stepping out of the tub. Shivering slightly, I noticed the fire had burned down. 

"I guess I fell asleep," I stated, a little ashamed. I had planned to be ready by the time he got back so that we could head out as soon as he wanted. Now, I was going to make him wait. He chuckled and shook his head, motioning for me to head to my room and get dressed. I obliged, drying off as soon as the curtain closed. It wasn't the first time he caught me naked, and probably wouldn't be the last. I had been embarrassed initially, but he assured me that it was fine and that he saw many naked women, clinically. I had finally come to the conclusion that while I wouldn't be parading my body in front of him in the buff, if he caught me while undressed, it wasn't the worst. It's not like he had ever taken advantage.

Slipping into a new breastband and smalls, I picked up my dress. After wiggling into it, I called for Anders to tighten the back a little, which he did without complaint. Running a brush through my hair, I considered if I wanted to leave it down or toss it up like I normally did. As though reading my mind, Anders commented that leaving it down would frame my face beautifully, and that I would be a vision _that boy_ wouldn't soon forget. I'm sure I turned crimson after that statement but I followed his advice. After adding a little bit of eyeliner and slipping into some shoes, we were off. I followed a few steps behind him the whole way, nervous about what the night would hold for me.

~*~ 

"No shit, so there we were, in the middle of fighting these jackasses who thought it was a good idea to challenge us, when their leader let out a yell and charged straight at Hawke. With a flick of his wrist, the man was flying across the street, wide-eyed and pale as a nug that's never seen the daylight, screaming like a little girl. After he hit the building, he stood up, shaking, and ran like the blighted coward he was, the rest of his bronto-licking company following shortly behind, tails between their legs." Varric was talking avidly with his hands, as though he was trying to paint a picture of the scene for us to see, his eyes wild and bright. "And then what does Hawke do? Why, he sits down on the nearest crate and says, 'Oh look, somebody forgot to use the watercloset before walking into an ass-kicking,' and sure enough, there was a little puddle where the leader had landed." The table burst out in raucous laughter, causing him to give Garrett a satisfied look. We were sitting up in his room, flagons of the worst ale I've ever tasted in front of all of us except Anders (who was drinking cider, something I kept stealing sips of), playing cards while he was regaling us with tales of his favorite hero. Garrett was chuckling, waving his hand at Varric, occasionally chiding him for exaggerating details. A small elven girl- Merrill, apparently- was giving him ardent looks of admiration mixed with fondness, seemingly unaware of anyone else in the room.

Isabela was constantly attempting to place herself on someones lap- mainly drifting between Garrett, Anders and Carver- while flirting heavily with Varric, who played along, for the most part. Occasionally he'd pat his crossbow tenderly and mention something about Bianca getting jealous, which didn't seem to deter her in the slightest. Aveline was sitting next to Merrill, looking less-than-pleased to be there, though she did laugh at some of Varric's stories. 

"So Daisy," Varric started, shifting the subject, "how is the alienage treating you?"

"Oooh, it's fi-ine," she said in a cheery voice. "Though I do find myself getting lost from time to time. So many _stairs_ here."

Varric reached out and lightly patted her hand. "Well, I'll just have to come up with something to help you with that." 

"Daisy?" I asked, slightly confused. "I thought her named was Merrill?" 

He had started digging in a bag next to him when he looked up at me in surprise. "Why, that's right! You never come out to have fun, so you wouldn't know that everybody has nicknames!" A mischievous smile crossed his face. "Her name is Merrill, but I call her Daisy. Isabela is Rivaini, Anders is Blondie, Hawke is, well, Hawke, Aveline is Red," at which the lady in question started grumping about how unoriginal that name was, "and Carver is Junior." He had pointed at everyone as he named them off. 

"Oh," I responded, a bit hurt that I had no nickname. _Don't be stupid,_ I lectured myself. _You don't get invited to go on things, so why would Varric give you a nickname? You're nobody special._ Anders was laughing, calling Varric out on his definition of "fun." I risked a glance at Carver out of the corner of my eyes and saw him watching me, an undecipherable look upon his face. I turned to face him directly, causing him to take a drink from his glass and stare at the table as though it were doing something fascinating. I felt the side of my lips turn down even as I attempted to keep my face neutral, but I've never been good at controlling what the damned thing does. Garrett was looking right at me, though, for the first time since we'd met. His eyes flicked to his brother for a moment before he returned his gaze to me, a frown coloring his features. _Oh, great,_ I thought. _What did I do now?_ He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by an exclamation from Varric.

"Why, I haven't given you a nickname yet! Now there's a challenge I needed," his eyes alight with excitement, he folded his hands and looked at me closely. I blushed, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. Anders laid a hand on my knee, giving me an encouraging smile. "Let's see here..." Varric tapped a finger on his beardless chin, considering. "I haven't had much _personal_ experience with you, but I've heard a lot from Blondie." I glared at Anders, feeling slightly betrayed. He shrugged, not nearly apologetic enough for my liking. "From his descriptions of your colorful personality, I'd say you belong in the floral group, like Daisy." Merrill gave me a bright look, nodding rapidly and beaming. "When were you born?" He asked suddenly. 

"I...what?" I blinked at him, stunned. That was the last question I had expected to be asked. "Well," I started out slowly, "I can't be sure how it translates, because I'm still working on matching my calendar up to the days here, but it was somewhere around a few months ago." 

Anders cleared his throat, causing me to look him questioningly. He flicked his eyes toward everyone else, and I noticed they all were looking at me with varying mixes of confusion (Merrill), curiosity (Varric and Isabela), sympathy (Aveline) and scorn (Garrett). Shit. I had made a major slip up, something I had promised myself I wouldn't do. "Spring. I was born in the spring," I amended hastily, casting pleading eyes at Anders, who coughed before giving Varric a more appropriate answer. Thank God I had him, as I would surely have been locked up or killed already if not. 

Varric had not stopped watching me this entire time, disturbingly attentive to how I was reacting. I nervously crossed and uncrossed my legs, plucking at the lace on my skirt. He was holding a ball of twine out to Merrill, telling her to use it as means to keep track of where she was going. "Lily." He announced finally, smiling in pride. A few scattered agreements could be heard around the table, along with an audible gasp from Anders. I, on the other hand, was staring at him in complete shock.

"What...what did you call me?" I whispered, so quiet I wasn't even sure he could hear me.

His brows furrowed, puzzlement clouding his expression. "Lily. I called you Lily. You were born in a time after the harsh winter is over, when beauty starts to return to the wilderness. Like a lily."

I was shaking, tears falling down my cheeks. A sob caught in my throat as I looked at him in horror. "No...no. D-don't call me that." I swiftly stood up, tripping over my chair in my hurry to leave. A hand reached out to grab my arm, and I turned to see Anders' amber eyes look up at me, sorrow evident throughout his face. 

"I'll take care of this, don't worry," he squeezed my arm, talking softly. "Be safe." I nodded numbly, rushing out the door as soon as he let go. Before I knew it, I was out in the cool nighttime air of Lowtown, my cheeks still wet. I turned into the alley behind the bar and leaned against the wall, sliding down to the ground and letting the emotion fall loose. My head fell into my hands and I wept, feeling my heart break all over again.

The door to the tavern slammed shut, causing me to jump and retreat further into myself. Brisk footsteps rounded the corner and soon a pair of dusty boots entered my poor line of vision between the cracks in my fingers. Fingers tentatively touched the top of my head for a moment before I felt myself engulfed by strong arms, holding me firmly against a chest. _His_ chest. That smell, oh, that wonderful mix of leather, sunshine and sword oil seeped into my very being and I relaxed against him, sobbing. He held me like that for minutes or hours, I'm not sure which, quietly accepting my grief, arms tightening whenever I let out a particularly loud wail. Slowly, as the tears subsided, leaving hiccups in their place, he pulled back and crooked a finger under my chin, slowly lifting my face to look at him. Blue eyes pierced my soul, and I knew I was lost, even before he uttered the words that had my jaw dropping in bewilderment.

"I know you're not crazy."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa there, these boys have a mind of their own. Interesting how they deviate from what I planned. Silly men.

I was staring into the sharp blue eyes in shock, having a difficult time wrapping my mind around what he'd said. Still reeling from the disaster that was nicknaming me, it seemed to be out of my mental capacity. I hiccuped, the result of crying so deeply that my entire frame had shook, even after being encircled by Carver's firm and soothing arms. He had dropped his finger from my chin and was now stroking my hair tenderly with one hand, the other wrapped around my waist, face completely devoid of his normal irritation. Instead he was observing me struggle with an air of kindness floating about him, his features soft with fondness. I don't think this boy knew how confusing he was, ignoring me for weeks except for the occasional sideways glance and blush, only to chase me when I ran out of The Hanged Man a blubbering mess.

"I know you're not," he repeated quietly, eyes searching my face, though for what, I did not know. I opened my mouth but could think of nothing to say, so I promptly closed it again. His hand drifted from my hair to caress the side of my face, causing me to close my eyes and lean into it. I felt a kiss on my brow before he leaned down to whisper in my ear, breath hot on my neck. "We should go somewhere more private to have this talk." I nodded, eyes still closed, nuzzling his hand softly. It drew away slowly, and I mourned the loss of heat on my cheek. I opened my eyes and watched him stand up, a hand out to help me to my feet as well. Taking it, I carefully drew myself up, unsure of exactly what was happening. He gave me a small smile of encouragement, then reached out and threaded my hand through his elbow. Pulling me along slowly, we made our way toward the clinic in the darkness.

~*~

I was fidgeting restlessly, eyes lowered to the floor. I knew he was waiting for me to speak, to _explain_ , but I wasn't sure how to go about it. Anders had been the first one to broach the subject of me being otherwordly back when I had amnesia of a sort, so when I finally remembered everything it was simple to tell him. With Carver, I had no idea were to start. I wasn't even sure I believed him; was this a sort of trick? How could he have come to that conclusion when no one else had? _It made no sense._ Ah, I see I'm back to my old catchphrase.

I think he sensed that I was having problems, because he stood up from the table and left for a few moments, returning and setting something in front of me. When I looked up, he pushed my phone over to me, his face blank. I bit my lip but made no move to pick it up, eliciting a frustrated noise from him. "Seriously?" he asked, annoyance flashing in those eyes that I could get lost in for hours. "You're gonna make me _ask?_ " I still didn't answer, casting my eyes to my lap, watching as my thumbs twirled around each other. "Fine." He sat back, arms crossing his chest, eyeing me warily. "Who's Lily?"

If I could, I would have burst into tears again, but I felt all dried up. He deserved an answer after holding me patiently in the alley behind The Hanged Man as I lost control of my emotions. It wasn't as if I had done a good job hiding the fact that the name meant something to me. Slowly, I reached shaking hands out and picked up the black and white case holding my iPhone, placing my thumb on the home button to allow the fingerprint reader to work. It clicked when it unlocked, and I noticed him jump a little in surprise. Technology was a foreign concept to the people of this world, and I was a bit leery of showing him something so different. Despite the fact that my eyes felt like there were about to shrivel up from dryness, tears began to pool in them as I opened my pictures and swiped through until I found what I was looking for. Setting the phone back on the table, I roughly shoved it at him.

His eyes grew into orbs as he took in what he was seeing. "Is this... is this a portrait? But it looks so... real." He touched the screen lightly tracing the side of the photo, retracting his finger as though burned when the picture moved with it. He considered it, before meeting my gaze. "She's beautiful," he whispered, awareness growing on his face. "How old is she?"

My voice was heavy from all the emotions flowing through me, and raspy from the crying. "She's two in the picture. It was taken only days before I... came here. She'd be three now." I glanced down at the little girl playing in the park, red hair pulled back in pigtails, beaming up at the camera in pure, unadulterated joy. She had my eyes, my pale skin, my oval face. Shutting my eyes, I felt the drops roll down slowly. "Lily was my little angel, always so happy and kind, taking care of everyone around her. The total opposite of her brother." I chuckled wetly. "He was, for lack of a better term, a little shit."

"Can I see him?" he inquired, face full of sorrow. Nodding, I picked up my phone and flipped to a picture showing a little boy with bright blonde hair, big, brown eyes and my signature pale skin running with a look of glee upon his face.

"This is Tommy," I handed the device to him. "He was five there, six now. Very boisterous and full of energy, always ready to have a good time. But he was more like me, strained when around too many people, unable to handle his emotions well. He always got into trouble," I smiled wistfully. "I miss them. It's a constant ache in my heart, knowing they are growing up without me. I can only hope they were able to move on better than I could."

He hesitated a moment, a question forming in his eyes. I had a guess as to what it was, so I answered him before he could ask. "Yes, I was married. His name was George. I miss him too, but he was never the love of my life, just the father of my children. I pray every day that he takes care of them like he should, and that he can find happiness with a woman who truly loves him."

"And Anders? He's not actually your brother?"

"No, he's the one who found me. I woke up without my memory, two thugs debating over the merit of raping me when he intervened. And then I just stuck to him like a parasite."

He sat back in his chair for a moment, obviously thinking. I was swiping through the pictures on my phone, reliving the memories captured there as best I could. I became so enthralled that I didn't notice when he stood up and crossed to my side until he was crouched down and wiping the tears from my cheeks. "I'm sorry you lost them," he whispered, emotion whirling in his eyes like a storm. I gave him a brief smile, acknowledging him with a tiny "thank you." After a couple of seconds, he pulled me back into his chest. I was getting the idea this was the only way he knew to offer comfort, but it was a way I was okay with. No unnecessary words, no pitying glances, just a gentle hug to let me know he cared.

"How did you know?" I finally uttered, causing him to let go of me. "What... what made you understand?"

"I... I don't know, really. I just had a gut feeling, at first. Then you kept saying the weirdest things, singing songs that sounded so different, plus you had those things in your ears that night that we... that we..." he cleared his throat, flushing. "Uh, and I could hear the _music_ coming from them, what you had been singing. Then tonight when you lost it at being called "Lily," it kinda just clicked."

"Why did you avoid me?" I asked quietly, afraid of the answer. I needed to know this, no matter how much it hurt me.

"I was, errr, um, scared, I guess. Once I left and thought about it, and...and the music things in your ears, it was too much. I thought I was maybe going crazy too, or... or, I don't know." He was rubbing at the nape of his neck, obviously uncomfortable at trying to express what he had felt. I reached out and stilled a jittering hand. He smiled at me sheepishly. "Sorry. Told you I'm not good at this talking thing."

I sniggered. "Isn't that the truth of it," I said, patting him on the arm. "It's okay, I can understand. I just needed to hear it from you." He relaxed a bit, standing back up and stretching. I heard a few pops from his spine, causing him to moan in a way that had me shifting to try to ignore the heat I felt in my smalls. _So not the time, stupid body,_ I chided myself. Hoping he couldn't see how flustered I was, I cleared my throat softly and thanked him for his belief, and for consoling me tonight. That bright-as-the-sun smile briefly crossed his face again, causing my heart to flutter. Oooooh, how I loved to see that.

The door to the clinic area opened, and I heard Anders walk in, calling out my name. Pushing the curtain back, he halted upon seeing us, Carver standing next to me, my hand still on top of his on the table. Carver withdrew his hand, smiling down at me. "I guess that's my cue to leave."

"Don't be a stranger this time," I joked, and was rewarded with a huff of laughter.

He reached down and took my hand between his, pulling it up to his lips, brushing across my knuckles. "Of course not, my lady." With a small curl to his lips, he let go and strolled to the entry way, raising a hand in farewell to Anders. Anders returned the gesture, waiting until the door shut before turning back to me, eyes dancing with mischief. "Soooo," he began, slowly meandering my way. Eyebrows raised in query, he poured himself a cup of water before sitting down across from me.

"Sooo....?" I repeated, crooked smile on my face. He leaned forward, gazing at me with intensity I hadn't seen from him in a long time. He must have found what he was looking for, as he sat back suddenly, that lazy smile cropping up.

"I'm just glad to see you're okay, sweetheart. I talked to Varric, and he agreed to figure out something different for you." I inclined my head as thanks, allowing him to chatter on about what had occurred after I left, though my mind kept drifting back to a certain man with dark hair and blue eyes...

~*~

I was mixing health poultices when Garrett strode into the clinic a few days later. Assuming he was going to ignore me, as was his custom, I kept about my work, not giving him a second thought until I heard him clear his throat behind me. Surprised, I slowly turned around to see him frowning at me deeply. How it figures that when he'd deign to finally acknowledge my presence that it would be with a look as sour as that. Taken aback, I grimaced before managing to arrange my features into somewhat of a neutral look. He stood there like that for a while, arms crossed, glowering at me, until I felt like I was about to turn into ash. That's when Anders finally wandered over to see if I needed anything and came face to face with us like that. Hands fell on his hips as his brows knitted together, obviously distressed at what he was seeing.

"Hawke," he said cautiously, as though talking to a wounded animal, "why are you looking at my sister as though you want to rip her throat out with your hands?"

As he turned from me to face Anders, I let out an audible sigh of relief. Anders' eyes darted back to me, unreadable, before returning his hard gaze to Garrett.

"I want to know what her intentions are with my brother," Garrett declared, turning that glare back upon me. My jaw had managed to fall so far I swore it was about to touch the floor, not expecting a conversation like this. Taking a deep breath to clear my mind, I straightened my spine and looked straight into his eyes.

"I'm not going to eat his soul, if that's what you mean," I joked, hoping to clear the tension.

He took a step toward me, now so close that he could have reached out and pushed me down without much of a struggle. His glare had turned deadly, and my breath caught in my throat. This... this was not the Hawke I remembered from the game. Initially upon meeting him, I was sure I was dealing with "Sarcastic Hawke," which was fine with me. I had only ever appreciated Alistair's sarcasm more, but this man standing before me was decidedly _not_ the same character I had played. Anger was emanating from his every pore, eyes so dark with hatred that I took a step back in alarm. _What on earth had I done to deserve this wrath?_ I wondered. "Stay away from him," he growled.

"Hold it, Hawke. Step back from her," Anders placed himself in between us, placating hands on Hawke's chest. "She isn't going to cause him any harm, and I will not have you threatening her." His face had gone hard, and they stood there, scowling at each other, Anders starting to crack blue, when Garrett finally stepped back, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Yes, sorry, I'll leave her alone," he said, mirthless laughter pouring from him. Anders still stood stiff in front of me, Justice having started to move to the front of his conscious. I touched his shoulder and whispered soothing words into his ears, pleased when the blue receded and he slumped slightly. He turned to me and took my hands in his, amber eyes looking deep into my soul.

"I will not let any harm come to you," he said in an undertone, "not even from Hawke." I nodded, thankful to hear what I already knew to be true. After a few moments of searching, he dropped my hands and turned around to face Garrett. "Did you need something, or did you come here solely to threaten my family?" His tone haughty, he was looking at his friend with a slight sneer on his face.

Casting another dark glance at me, Garrett answered, "Yes, I came here to ask about help for a job. Can we discuss this in private?" God bless him, Anders actually told him _no,_ that if he wanted to talk to him, he could do it around me. Smirking, I turned back to my poultice. Glowering again, Garrett took a seat at the table and started explaining the job. Varric had been contacted by a dwarf named Anso, a merchant who had been robbed by bandits who were hiding out in the alienage.

My hands stilled. Anso- that meant this was when we met Fenris! Oh lord, to say that I was excited to see him in person was a slight understatement. He had been my favorite character in the game, and was super attractive on-screen to boot. If my experience with these guys in real life had taught me anything, it's that they're about ten times _more_ gorgeous in real life than on television. Oooh, this could be exciting!

"I'd like to come. Please," I added when both pairs of eyes looked at me, Anders thoughtful, Garrett looking fairly murderous.

"Absolutely not," Garrett said at the same time as Anders had shrugged and spoken, "I don't see why not." Both froze and turned to each other, the air becoming palpable with awkwardness.

"Isabela said that I'm more than good to go into battle with daggers now, and I always have my bow to be at the distance. Plus, you know, the magic thing." My tone was persuasive, trying to convince Garrett that it was worth bringing me.

Shaking his head, he laughed low and deep. "And you think that I'd bring a crazy woman into battle with me because...?"

"Hawke!" Anders exclaimed sharply. "We've been over this."

Garrett held up his hand. "When it comes down to it, this is _my_ job, so we do it _my_ way. And I say no." Without further ado, he stood up and headed toward the door, only stopping to say over his shoulder, "I'd like to see you there tomorrow night, Anders. But only if you leave _her_ ," he jutted his thumb in my direction, "at home." Then he was gone.

I slammed my fists into the table, outraged. Anders made a move to come to me, but I waved him off. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight," I growled, stomping off. I was aware that I was taking my irritation out on the wrong man, but I couldn't stop myself. It was so _infuriating_ to be treated like a invalid.

 _Fuck you, Garrett Hawke,_ I thought as I slipped into my nightclothes, then under the covers. _I will be there tomorrow, whether or not you like it._


	7. Chapter 7

I played the part well, in my opinion. When Garret showed up with Carver, Isabela and Varric to get Anders for the shit show that was meeting Fenris, I made sure to stand meekly by, eyes downcast. I noticed a brief flicker of concern in Carver's face when he looked at me, but I waved it off as inconspicuously as I could, getting a quick nod before he turned his attention back to his brother. I was hoping our exchange went unnoticed, because I had no intentions of doing anything more to pique Garret's animosity. Not now, at least. My plan _should_ go off without a hitch tonight, but one can never account for every variability when by yourself. So I stayed out of their way, Anders giving me a quick hug and thanking me for understanding (causing some guilt to swirl in my gut), until they left. I slowly counted the minutes, making sure to allow a head start. Unlike them, I knew where they ultimately ended up: the alienage. 

I exchanged my worn red dress for a dark tunic and black leggings, more discreet to sneak around in. Isabela had been drilling me on blending in the shadows, and I felt I had a pretty good grip on it. I pulled my hair up in a high ponytail to keep as much from falling in my face as I could, and slipped on a cloak that I had found hiding in the back of Anders' closet. It was a good deal longer on me than him, so while I'm sure it was meant to rest around his knees, it floated across the floor on me. I didn't care about the length, I wanted it for the hood, to pull up and hide my red hair and my pale face. If I was to follow, I needed to be able to hide as much of myself as I could. Smirking, I pulled out a mask I had quickly knitted for myself with leftover yarn Lirene had laying around, pulling it up over my eyes and tying it underneath my hairband. I felt like a masked vigilante, no doubt thanks to the fact that the mask literally went around my eyes like you'd see in a comic book. 

I knelt down and pulled my weapons out from under my bed, slipping the daggers into the sheaths at my waist and hanging the bow and quiver on my back. If all went well, I would have no need for the daggers, but why go unprepared when I could be jumped by some thugs? I wasn't about to let that stop me from seeing my favorite broody elf. My excitement was damn near palpable, the desire to actually _meet_ Fenris causing me to shiver in anticipation. I don't know exactly why his character had always called out to me, but I always attributed it to his massive character development over the game. I was looking forward to seeing his personality in depth, assuming he would let me get close. I was no Hawke, nor was I a charmer, so I tried to keep my hopes from getting up. He didn't like mages or magic, and while I wasn't a mage, per se, I sure could whip around some magic if there was enough near me. Hopefully he could look past that, or even consider it a bonus for when the time came to battle Hadriana or Danarius.

Slipping a few health potions into the small bag hanging from my belt, I deemed myself ready and snuck out into Darktown. While Garrett and the others had to first speak with Anso to get a lead on where to go, I simply made a beeline straight to the alienage, hoping to get there soon enough that I could scout out a safe corner to hide in. I was not disappointed, and slipping between shadows, I stealthily climbed onto a small overhang that looked directly at the house that I was certain the slavers were in. I sat there waiting, minutes ticking by. I was just about to hit the point of agitation born from boredom when I heard voices approaching. Squinting through the dark, I made out five bodies heading toward the dilapidated building, recognizing Garrett's loud laugh as they got closer. I watched as Isabela and Varric briefly bickered over who was going to pick the lock before she got down on one knee, pulling a few picks from out of her hair (oh! So that's why she never wanted the pouch back) and making short work of getting inside. After they disappeared from my view, I held my breath. As though sprouting from the earth itself, I watched as a multitude of slavers poured out onto the street directly in front of the house. I was also aware of the noises at the entrance to the alienage, where I knew another contingent was lining up as backup; the group that Fenris would take out himself, in theory.

I pulled my bow off of my back, nocking an arrow, waiting for my cue. At that moment, Garrett and the others filtered back outside, and soon a battle was raging. I fell into a comfortable routine up in my hideaway; _nock, aim, shoot. Nock, aim, shoot._ One by one the slavers fell until there was naught a soul left, Garrett twirling his staff obnoxiously. Varric was collecting his bolts, and I noticed him peering my way with what looked like a slight smile. I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle when he pulled out one of my arrows and covertly saluted in my direction. So the little bastard knew, but it appeared he meant to keep my secret, placing my arrows along next to his. I assumed I'd get them back at a later time when it was much easier to be discreet.

I heard the telltale sound of the commander yelling for his lieutenant to bring backup and watched as said man stumbled out, followed closely by none other than the elf of the hour. I gasped quietly, eyes drinking in the beauty that was Fenris. Even when he ripped the heart out of the only slaver left, the way his markings glowed, the olive skin offset by the feathery white hair and the large, emerald green eyes took my breath away. I watched as he conversed with Garrett who flirted shamelessly (I recognized the body language), and while I was unable to make out a majority of the conversation, I gathered they were making plans when to storm Danarius' mansion. 

At the conclusion of their little powwow, they left, Fenris heading back to wherever he was currently staying, the guys heading to (I assumed) The Hanged Man. I continued to sit quietly in the dark, long after their laughs had disappeared, leaving me in silence. Only when I was completely sure I was alone did I finally risk jumping down to the ground. Looking around the alienage, I darted through the shadows up to the street that led away. I relaxed after it was out of sight, feeling quite accomplished at my sneaking skills. 

Relaxing was my mistake.

I suddenly found myself pinned against the wall to one of the bakeries, a gauntlet-clad hand around my throat, the other pulled back and ready to plunge into my chest. My eyes widened in absolute terror as I was now face-to-face with the very person I had wanted to see, though definitely not like this. His eyes were narrowed, hate rolling through them like the waves of the ocean during a storm, mouth snarling. 

Let's just say that it was so terrifying I was very proud of myself for being able to keep control over all of my bodily functions.

"Who are you?" he spat, words filled with venom. "Did Danarius send you?" I was having trouble breathing, his grip against my throat tight enough to cut off air to my lungs. Clawing at his hand, I shook my head, desperately trying to convey that I was not there to harm him. His snarl intensified, and he pulled me away from the wall only to shove me back into it, hard. My head slammed back, stars dancing before my eyes at the connection. "Why. Are. You. Here." Anger punctuated every word, and I tried to answer, I really did. This elf was putting the fear of God into me, but I couldn't seem to get my voice to work. I'm sure the fact that I could feel my brain slowly shutting down from lack of oxygen really wasn't helping the matter, and I think after a moment he came back to his senses enough to realize how tight he was holding me. Once again he loosened his grip, and I braced myself to hit the wall again. When it didn't come, I slumped slightly, exhausted from the effort. 

"I was following my friends to make sure they were okay," I managed to get out, though it was slightly slurred. His eyes, cold, watched me, waiting for me to continue. "My brother was there tonight, during the slavers attack. I wanted to come with but was told I would be too big of a liability. So I waited until they left and hid in the shadows to be there in case they needed my help. Which they did," I added. The sheer number of the tevinters would almost have certainly overwhelmed them. 

He stood there for a moment longer, hand still around my neck, searching my face before he finally let go and stepped back, letting his other arm fall to his side. My hands immediately went to my neck, gasping in the air that I was finally able to breathe in fully. Shit, there was going to be a bruise there tomorrow. I had no idea how to explain _that_ away to Anders. I leaned against the wall, catching my breath and regaining some energy, all the while those deep green eyes watched me. I had no idea what he was looking for, maybe some sort of tic to give away that I was lying, but he eventually turned on his heel and stalked off into the night. I watched his back as it retreated, absently rubbing at the sore spot on my neck, vaguely aware that I needed to be getting home. Taking a deep breath, I slipped back into the shadows and made my way to Darktown.

~*~

I had been wrong. So very, very wrong. They had not gone to The Hanged Man after the battle. No, they had gone to the _clinic_ so that Anders could heal some of the wounds. Of course that made sense, in retrospect. So when I strolled in the door, disheveled and bruised, I was a little bit shocked to find the group scattered around on the cots in front of me. 

I sighed as Garrett's furious eyes settled on me. _For fuck's sake, can't something go my way for once?_ I thought as I slunk over to the curtain, desperate to get to my room and avoid them all. When I felt a hand latch on to my arm, I knew I was out of luck. I turned around stiffly, hands curled into fists at my side, and looked into my favorite amber eyes. Eyes that were currently housing a mix of concern, anger and exasperation. Without a word, Anders led me to a cot of my own and pushed me into sitting. I felt the burning looks of everyone in the room (save Varric, who was actually _chuckling_ at my discomfort) as he lifted his hands to my neck and used his healing magic to check out the damage. I tensed against the warmth spreading throughout me, setting my jaw stubbornly. I was a grown woman, capable of doing whatever I wanted, thank you very much. Nobody here was going to tell me otherwise. 

His hands dropped and he stepped away. Standing up quickly, I made a beeline toward the curtain and _again_ felt a hand on my arm. This time I jerked it away, frustrated that everyone felt the need to touch me tonight. Before I could make it past the threshold into safer territory, Garrett spoke. His voice was quiet, but filled with rage. I froze with my hand on the curtain. "I told you not to come. In fact, I forbid it. So what in the name of the Maker did you think you were doing?"

"Saving your asses!" I snarled, whipping around to face him. He was still on the cot over by Anders, eyes hard and fury filled. He was shaking with the effort of holding in his temper, and I knew deep down that it was not a good idea to poke the bear, but I didn't really care at the moment. "If not for me, you would have been in _much_ worse condition, if you had even survived!" I was yelling now, irate about the accusation in his voice. 

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" He stood up, body taut with ill-contained anger. I could feel his magic seeping out of him; he was losing control. "You have no right to talk to me like this. You're just a fucking crazy whore who thinks she's tough shit."

"Shut up, brother!" Carver placed himself in front of me, and I could feel the rage emanating from his pores. 

"Get away from her, Carver." Voice deathly quiet, Garrett was moving towards his brother with determination. Carver did not back down, instead standing straighter, a hand out behind him to keep me there. 

The tension in the air was so thick you could have cut it with a knife when Varric finally stepped in. "Hawke, Junior, let's not get carried away here. She's just a kid, allowed to make mistakes. Don't be so hard on her." His voice was placating, and he had placed a hand on Garrett's forearm. Garrett ground to a halt at the contact, looking down at the dwarf in surprise. Suddenly he deflated, wariness flooding his face and he reached up, massaging his temples. 

"You're right, of course. It's not worth the fight." Exhaustion colored his voice now. "I just want to go home."

One by one they started trickling out, Varric silently handing me my arrows and Isabela winking. Before he left, Carver leaned down and placed a kiss on my cheek, whispering "I'll be by to check on you tomorrow. Have a good night." He looked at me with fondness, hand caressing my cheek before he turned and followed his brother. Soon it was just Anders, me, and the rather large elephant in the room. He was busy making up the cots, movements jerky, face dark. 

I slipped off the cloak ( _his_ cloak) and carefully sat it down on a nearby shelf, placing my weapons on top of it. "Anders," I said quietly. When I didn't receive any response, I tried again. "Anders, please. I'm sorry."

His hands stilled in their movements, then he turned to look straight at me. I was unable to read his expression, and I shuffled guiltily. A blink and he was holding me in his arms, crying. Startled, I placed my hands on his back, unsure what to do.

He started babbling about losing me, the bruises on my neck having terrified him. What would he do without me? I let him go on in that manner for some time, awkwardly patting his back as was my duty. It was my fault he was like this, after all.

"I am mad at you for lying to me, though." I looked up, his face disappointed. "I thought you'd trust me more than that."

I leaned back into him, apologies spilling from my lips, until the elephant disappeared and we parted to go to bed.


	8. Chapter 8

The Wounded Coast is a beautiful place where the Waking Sea meets the land outside of Kirkwall. Waves vary between crashing angrily upon the beach to softly licking the sand, depending on what the weather decides to do on any particular day. Today was the latter, and I found myself sitting on a part of the beach close to the city gates, dress hiked up to mid-thigh, ankles and feet dipped in the cold water. The sun was bright overhead, with a few fluffy clouds making their way across the otherwise clear sky. The crystalline water near the white sand lapped gently at me as though trying to convince me to wade deeper in. There were a few trees off in the distance behind me, on the other side of the dusty, well-traveled road leading away from the only town I knew in the Free Marches. Typically I didn't venture out here on my own but I needed some time to recharge my introverted batteries. It didn't help that since I had crashed the Fenris/slaver party, both Anders and Garrett had kept increasingly watchful eyes on me, making my every move feel catalogued and evaluated. It was driving me absolutely bonkers, and with no real way to remedy it, I had simply told Anders I was leaving on a picnic- alone, thank you very much- and wouldn't be back until much, much later. I had resolutely ignored his protests about my safety, etc etc, and picked up my basket (wine already tucked inside) reserved for such occasions and marched right out the door. The dramatic exit I had hoped to make by that was ruined by the fact that I had to turn right around and walk back into the clinic to get my weapons, because only a lunatic would traverse the Coast (or the lower parts of Kirkwall, for that matter) without any means of defense. Nonetheless, I left and headed up to the markets to find myself whatever food I could afford to get for this excursion. Lucky for me, I had recently helped out the man who owned Lowtown Bakery and that allowed me to purchase a sinful amount of pastries to bring along. Lord, do I love a good pastry.

Munching on one of the fruit variety, I wiggled my toes as the waves brought the water up to the bottom of my calf, watching as a small crab skittered by. This was wonderful. It was nice to get away from the hustle and bustle inside the city, not to mention the glares and snide comments made by the elder Hawke. Serene, stunning and solitary, this spot was calling to my very being. My soul was happy to just be enjoying the time without any worries for once.

Hurried footsteps drew my attention toward the road, and I could make out a figure stalking in my direction. Unable to see any armor, I grew a bit wary. Not a city guard or a templar, two groups I could easily deal with. I shifted my position so that I had a hand on one of my daggers, keeping my posture relaxed to deceive whoever was coming my way. As the person grew closer I could make out dark hair and flashing blue eyes. Oh. I turned away and placed both my palms back on the sand, closing my eyes and allowing the salty breeze to wash over me. I neither moved nor cracked my eyelids when I heard someone drop next to me, comfortable with who I knew it to be. We sat like that, in silence, for a while before he spoke.

"You shouldn't be out here by yourself."

I shrugged, not concerned about it. I wouldn't have come if I hadn't thought I could take care of myself, and I was pretty damn confident that I could. If nothing else, I possessed two working legs and I was pretty quick now, thanks to my jogs around Darktown. Retreat was always an option. A contented sigh slipped from me as I felt another breeze ruffle my hair, the smell of the sea quick on its tail.

"Anders had to tell me where you went, you know. Not nice to skip out like that."

Opening my eyes, I finally turned to look at Carver. A myriad of emotions were playing across his face, a few I recognized as hurt, anger and worry. Unsure how to respond to either his accusation or the emotion, I nudged the basket toward him. When words fail you, food is the next best option. He blinked in surprise, then reached down to see what was inside. Eyebrows raising in bewilderment, he made the comment that I had enough to feed more than two people. I laughed, agreeing with him. The baker really had let me get way more than I needed, but my love for pastries verges on the unholy side of things. He pulled out a meat one and took a bite, face screwing up in a cross between shock and delight in the flavors he found.

"So were you expecting someone else?" he asked, still working on the pastry. I cocked my head to the side, considering his question. Was I? No, not really. Although that would be a rather convenient excuse for my gluttony, but alas, I just like food.

"No, I meant to be alone. I just really enjoy pastries?" He laughed at my admission, causing me to chuckle, as well. "But that didn't keep me from hoping someone would join me, I just knew better than to assume anyone would."

He raised an eyebrow, mouth full. A question in his eyes, he motioned for me to continue. I sighed, wishing I hadn't opened this particular can of worms. "I just meant... I walk the line between optimism and pessimism quite often. In this case, I had hoped that someone would notice me gone and care enough to track me down to sit with me, but I figured it wouldn't happen. It never has before, why would it now? But that doesn't stop me from foolishly wishing it so."

"Whaddya mean it hasn't happened before?" He tossed the last bit in his mouth, digging back into the basket with relish. This time he pulled out a mystery roll, eyeing it closely before taking a bite. Juice flowed from the center, a red substance making an appearance through the opening. Apparently one with fruit and jam embedded inside.

"No one ever really cared enough to notice when I was gone. I could drive to a park and just cry inside of my car for hours, and no one would notice. That was always my life. Why would it change now?" He opened his mouth to answer but I continued, caught in a flow of words I couldn't seem to stem. "I was always on the outside, never quite fitting in but not weird enough to stand out, either. Just odd enough to not really fit anywhere, and while I was fine with it for the most part, it wears on you, you know? I had one friend and my husband before I came here. And the only reason I think he ever noticed if I was taking more time than usual to get home was because of our children. They, at least, cared enough to know that I was away."

He swallowed, eyes looking down at the sand. I continued on my little tirade for a bit longer, talking about how I felt about it all and my gradual acceptance that nobody (excluding my children) really _cared_ about me, and that was something I would just have to live with. Eventually I trailed off, not having meant to rant in such a manner. We hardly knew each other, really. He came to visit me a few times after the Fenris debacle, but not often and certainly not for long. Whether that was due to his brother's influence or a personal decision, I didn't know. It didn't really matter to me, I just figured he was another in the long list of people who pretended they liked me but really didn't. I splashed a foot absentmindedly in the water, watching some birds flying over the water. They skimmed across the top, probably looking for fish to catch, but apparently none successful.

"I noticed. And you'd better ruddy well not dismiss it." I flung my head around to look at him, disbelief written across my face. He was still observing the sand, his fingers dancing over the little grains from what I assumed were nerves. He had said that in a mildly aggressive tone, but his body language sad he was anything but at the moment. I sputtered a bit, lost for words. My awkwardness was rolling off of me in spades, proof that I was still myself after all. No quirky flirting here, just a girl who had no idea how to talk to people, graceless beyond a doubt. I was still desperately trying to regain control of my tongue when his hands moved and grabbed onto mine, eyes turned up to look straight into mine. "I'm. Not. Them." He punctuated every word with a pause, seemingly determined to get it through my thick skull that he was different. I wanted to believe it, oh, I really did, but all my previous experience with people pointed at everyone lying and my body was currently screaming at me to get away before I get hurt again. Frozen, I just sat there while he searched my face, his scowl overtaking his features slowly. He released me, pulling back, but his eyes never left my face. I started to fidget under the pressure of his gaze, unsure what to do. Again, awkward lady over here.

Finally, he sat back, glancing over the coast and allowing me to catch a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Shit, I suck at social situations. Not new news, but still very annoying. All I want is to be adequate, that's all I ask. But probably never going to happen.

We sat like that a while, both watching the waves sloshing across the beach, listening to the birds squawk at one another. Eventually he started talking about the latest adventure he'd been on, and I gladly listened. As time wore on, we exchanged stories and grew into an easy camaraderie. Before I knew it, the sun was setting and his scowl returned. I was sad to see it take its place back upon his face, but heartened that he had some time away from his worries as well, time where I got to see that wonderful smile and hear his raucous laughter. As we meandered back to the city, we agreed to do this once a week, to get away from everyone else and just relax.

Outside of the clinic door, he stood looking unsure of himself for a moment before grabbing my hand and brushing his lips across my knuckles, causing me to flush a deep red. Wishing me a good night, he turned and made his way back to Lowtown, and I, with a smile on my face, headed back inside the clinic to put the rest of my delicious cakes away.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I didn't expect the conversation with Anders to completely overtake the chapter. I went into this expecting it to be short and sweet and then it was beach time. Noooope. So. Here's a serious chapter. Next one should be fun and fluff. If these assholes cooperate, that is.
> 
> TW: there is a brief mention of child molestation, attempted suicide and a severely depressed child.

"Let's go swimming on the Coast!"

The words poured out of my mouth as soon as they crossed my mind, causing an apologetic grin to crop up on my face. Anders sighed and shook his head, hands hovering over the chest of a young man who had apparently had a run in with the Coterie. A slash the length of his torso extended from right shoulder to left hip, deep but thankfully not deep enough to kill. A chuckle escaped his lips as he looked from Anders to myself, my excitement so great that I was nearly bouncing on my toes. It had been too long since we had gone somewhere together, just the two of us, and I was sorely missing my big brother time. Adoptive or no, I fully embraced the concept of having a sibling, relishing the fact that I didn't have to be lonely ever again. Spending my life as an only child raised first by my grandparents and then one of my aunts left me with a larger-than-average age gap between myself and my parental figures, wiping any play sessions with them off the board as well as having brothers or sisters in one fell swoop. Needless to say, having Anders was like your first breath of fresh air after a long, painful anxiety attack.

Speaking of which, time to ingest some of my precious Crystal Grace. I turned on my heels and bounded past the sheet marking my passage from the clinic to the kitchen, heading to the little cupboard that held our personal supply of herbs. Opening the old, cracked door, I pulled out the little glass jar that held the mashed remains of several of the bell-shaped flowers, dropping a couple pinches into an empty glass. Pouring some water over the powder, I mixed it until I could no longer see any particles floating and downed the concoction, shuddering slightly at the bitter taste. I had hoped since Anders had managed to heal my eyesight and hypothyroidism the first time he waggled his fingers at me and swallowed my body up in healing magic, that perhaps my depression and anxiety issues would be banished as well. Alas, I had no such luck. It had taken a while for my first episode to hit, as we had been in Kirkwall for about a month before I woke one morning, unable to drag myself out of bed. At first he had tried to dismiss it as my grief finally overwhelming me and was convinced that I just needed some time to heal from the loss of my family and everything I knew. When the depression side of the coin was active, I didn't care enough to correct him. When the mighty beast of anxiety reared its ugly head, though, I set him straight. Luckily for me, mental illness was not solely unique to earth, and Anders knew of a plant renowned for its ability to help those suffering from my condition. Crystal Grace is rare in the Free Marches, but one of the herbalists in the Gallows carries it imported from Ferelden. Thank the Lord (or the Maker, whoever) for small favors, right?

Anti-crazy mixture taken, I wandered back to Anders. He was still working on the same man, who adopted a loopy grin when I approached. His pointed ears named him as an elf, with black hair and dark brown eyes that were currently sizing me up as though I were a piece of meat. _Oh, great._ I opted to ignore him, placing myself slightly behind Anders, choosing to remain silent until he finished his task. This was currently the last patient, and I was really hoping to be able to convince him to relax and have fun with me. He'd been out a lot with Garrett, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little jealous.

The blue light faded from his fingertips as the skin finished healing, a scar barely visible on the muscled chest. I looked away as soon as I caught myself staring, not really desiring any attention from anyone other than my current prey. Anders stood up and caught sight of me, a tired smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Still want to go swimming, huh?" he asked as he walked to the water basin to clean his hands. I nodded, then realized he couldn't see me, so I voiced my affirmation.

"I'll take you swimming, beautiful. We could have some _fun_ , if you know what I mean," the elf spoke up, winking at me. I crossed my arms, working out some smart ass retort to say that would guarantee he'd leave me alone when Anders beat me to the punch.

"That is my sister, and you'd do well to remember that," he growled from behind me. The elf quickly raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender, immediately apologizing, saying he didn't know, he'd never do it again, blah blah, blah blah. I'll admit I tuned it out fairly quickly and simply walked off to blow out the lantern. Generally if Anders spoke up like that, the matter was taken care of. Nobody down here was willing to lose their healer, and thus his word had a tendency to become law. Especially regarding me, the little sister. The _kid_ sister.

Passing the elf who was slinking away, I walked up to my brother. All thoughts of swimming had fled my mind as anger took their place. A dark, simmering anger I had been tucking in the back of my mind, trying to ignore it. No longer.

"Anders," I started, placing a hand on my hip, the other dangling at my side. He turned to face me, curiosity painting his expression at my sudden change of tone. "Can we please talk about how you always treat me like a child? I could have taken care of him myself, you know." I was carefully keeping my voice as even as I could, not wanting to slip into petulant younger sibling mode. I never was one who wanted to be babied, and my independence and ability to take care of myself was something I had prided myself on. So while it was nice to have someone who had my back, I still wanted to be treated like an adult. I didn't know if it had to do with the increasing animosity between Garrett and myself or if he was slipping into the role of protective big brother as easily as I was as little sister, but he'd been progressively acting more and more like I was a young, helpless child. It was becoming quite annoying.

His brows knit together as he considered what I had said. "I know that. It's just easier when I say something. People are more prone to listen since they desire my abilities. I don't doubt that you can take care of yourself, you know that." I did, deep down in my bones, I knew that he was well aware I could survive. But he seemed to be missing my overall point, not just what had happened today.

"It's not just that," I said, waving my hand dismissively toward the door the elf had walked out of. "It's this _thing_ we have going on between us. I'm to the point of feeling like the younger sister for real, and that's fine. But I wonder if you are taking the role of protective big brother too far? I mean, you have been acting like I have so little life experience and that I don't know anything. I can ignore when Varric calls me a kid. He doesn't know. You do. So please, treat me like an adult."

"But you _are_ my little sister, and you _don't_ have as much life experience as you think you do. You're young, and you think you know it all. I get it, I really do; I was there once. But Cay, sweetheart, you're _only 19._ That's still so young, especially compared to me." He was watching me with amusement, his timbre wise.

He forgot. He fucking forgot. The anger in me burst through, and I clenched both of my fists in front of me, taking deep breaths. _Calm down,_ I told myself. _Don't say anything you'll regret._

Taking a step toward me, his visage became concerned. I held up a hand, halting his approach. The last thing I wanted was to be touched right now. "I'm 29." My voice pitched low, quiet, deadly. "I'm 29, I was married with two children, daughter of a mother with an extreme mental illness and passed between family members like the unwanted babe I was. Cast off and forgotten, I grew up knowing only regret, sadness and anger, no one caring enough to notice the treatment they gave me pushed me into the abyss of self-hatred and depression. A friend's dad molested me when I was 7, too young to know what was going on. I tried to kill myself when I was 8, 10, 11, and 15. All unsuccessful, but still valid attempts. I cut in high school to make sure I was alive, to see the blood flowing from my body as proof there was something inside. Again, no one noticed or cared in my family, choosing to hide me away so I didn't ruin their perfect image. Need I continue, or does that ring a bell about my _nonexistent life experience?_ " My eyes were burning with unshed tears, my body shaking as I attempted to reign in my wrath. "Because that was just the first half of my life. I still have more I could remind you about. Just because _this_ body," I motioned to all of me, "says I'm younger doesn't mean I simply forgot the rest of my life."

His eyes widened as comprehension dawned on his face. A hand flew to his forehead and his eyes shut, remorse blossoming on his features. His body became rigid and his muscles strained as blue cracks started to appear, and I realized that I had perhaps pushed too far. Justice felt the need to come out, though if it was to protect his friend or at something I said, I didn't know. But I was about to find out, considering the rate his skin was tinting.

Blue eyes flew open and the hand fell limply to his side as Justice gazed at me intensely. I uncurled my fists, stretching out the fingers on each hand, and willing my muscles to relax. The fact that I was as tense as a board certainly didn't help the matter, so I utilized an old technique from a yoga class long ago: breathe in as though I'm breathing into the muscles themselves and imagine them loosening. Thankfully it still worked, allowing me to arrange myself into a more neutral position. I didn't want to provoke Justice more. While I accepted him as part of Anders and knew him to be a relatively "friendly" spirit, I had no desire to get on his bad side.

 **"Your situation was unjust,"** he boomed, and I winced slightly at the volume. It had been a while since I had last heard that sonorous voice, and my ears had not had a chance to adjust to it. I was, however, quite happy to see it was my past life that brought him to the forefront and not something I had did to Anders. That was promising, and something I could work with.

"Yes," I said softly, soothingly. I approached him carefully, reaching a hand out to touch the dangling arm. He watched the movement, peircing eyes staring at the point where our skin touched. "It was unjust, no child should have to live through that. But many do. As for me, it's in the past. There's nothing you can do about it, Justice, it's not worth getting worked up about."

He shifted his eyes to look straight into mine, and I did my best not to look away. It's _uncomfortable_ to look into the eyes of someone you know, someone you love, and see someone else looking out at you. I'll never get used to it. **"Unjust,** " he said again, slowly. **"Anders would like you to know that he is sorry.** "

I smiled. "Then let him tell me himself, Justice. It's better to hear it from the source himself."

He nodded, and I watched as the blue receded back into the amber that I know. Anders blinked as the final cracks of blue disappeared, regaining use of his body. He instantly pulled me into a tight hug, muttering multitudes of apologies into my ear. Apologies for forgetting, for treating me like I was a child, for not being a good big brother. At the last one I pulled away and gave him a swift slap on the cheek. His hand whipped to the reddened area as he looked at me in shock.

"You are an _amazing_ big brother. Never doubt that," I stated. "Now, off of the mushy shit and on to more important issues." Rubbing his cheek, he looked at me apprehensively. I can't say that I blamed him, really. After that bitch of a conversation, of course he'd be worried about what would be more important. A devilish grin crept over my face. "Let's go swimming!"

A guffaw escaped him. Shaking his head, a smirk appeared on his lips. "You're incorrigible," he said, tone light. "But I'm afraid I'll have to pass today. I've been out so much recently my clinic has fallen to the wayside. I need to keep it open. Thanks for making me re-light the lantern, by the way." At my frown, he laid a hand on my shoulder and smiled genuinely. "But I know someone who would go with you."

I cocked my head to the side, curious. "Okay, I'll bite. Who?"

A wicked expression crossed his face and he waggled his eyebrows at me as he said, "Carver."

A flush colored my features at his suggestion. Carver? Okay, yes, we had been spending a decent amount of time together but swimming typically entailed me in just a breast band and smalls _or_ an oversized tunic that still didn't cover much, and I'm fairly shy about my body. I wasn't sure I was ready to bare that much skin in front of him willingly. We were still in the fairly new friends stage, no need to muck that up.

As though reading my thoughts, Anders jabbed me in the side. "He's seen you almost naked once, it's not like he'll die of shock," he joked. I turned even redder, much to his delight. "Go, he'll most likely join you for no other reason than he enjoys your company. You're good for him anyway, he's not so surly when we're out with his brother on jobs after spending time with you." I muttered about being used to make his life easier, and he chuckled, shoving me toward the door as he made his way to light the beacon I had so rudely extinguished.

Stepping out of the door, I headed down the stairs, mulling over the option. Take Carver swimming with me? I admittedly enjoyed being around him quite a bit, and this was a good excuse to drag him with me. It might even mean I get to see him shirtless. I giggled like a teenager at the prospect, drawing a few amused glances as I made my way toward the lift out of Darktown. 29 I may be mentally, but Anders was correct that I acted younger at times. I've never been the most socially adept, and anything relating to a possible relationship had a tendency to make me uncomfortable and regress quite a few years. The thrill of meeting someone interested in me and starting over made me giddy as well as terrified. Some adult I was.

I found myself in front of Gamlen Amell's house before I fully realized where I was. Apparently I sealed the deal somewhere along the way without realizing it. I climbed up the stairs, shooting a soft prayer toward the heavens to whichever being was up there, God or the Maker, that when I knocked it would _not_ be Garrett who answered. That had happened before and it was awful. Leandra was nice enough even if she's a bit nosy, so I didn't mind it if she did, and Gamlen seemed too lazy to be bothered. I wasn't in the mood to fight with Garrett so if he answered, I would most likely just turn around and leave.

I balked at the door. Maybe I should see if Isabela would be interested instead? It would be far less awkward, even with all of the innuendoes. Or I could get her first and then come back to see if Carver wants to come. She's a good ice-breaker. Well, more like an ice _sledgehammer_ , but the point still stands. Yes, Isabela will do nicely to keep me from making this outing awkward. That decided, I pivoted to walk back down the stairs when the door swung open behind me. I froze, turning my head slowly to see who had discovered me in my elaborate plan to run away.

Carver. Carver who was looking at me intently and trying to hide delight behind the mask of indifference he usually wore. He was failing, but kept trying nonetheless. He stepped out the rest of the way, shutting the door behind him. Leaning up against the outside of the dirty hovel, he tried for an air of casualness as he asked, "What's a nice lady like you doing in a pit like this?"

I giggled in an oddly high-pitched tone, my nerves betraying me. He raised an eyebrow at the noise, finally giving up on his attempt to look like his normal grouchy self and smiled at me. That just caused me to giggle again, a blush sprouting up across my face and making me feel like an overripe tomato. He huffed in amusement and stepped away from the house, closing the few steps between us. "And here I thought I was the one who couldn't talk," he teased.

I bit my lip for a moment before mumbling that I was going to ask him to go swimming. Well, I say mumbled, but it wasn't just quiet, it was slurred and very unrecognizable as any sort of language. He tilted his head, smirking, as he asked me to repeat myself. I took a breath, willed my nerves away, and finally choked out my question. "I was going to see if you wanted to go swimming on the Coast with me today."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. I stepped back into the railing by the stairs, worried when he didn't answer. "If you don't want to, 's fine, I was gonna see about Isabela coming so you wouldn't have to be alone with me, and..."

He placed a finger on my lips, silencing me as he chuckled at my fumbling over words. "I never said I didn't want to," he laughed. "I didn't ruddy say anything at all, in fact. Let me grab a few things, then we can go." He retracted his finger and turned back to the house. Pausing as he grabbed onto the handle of the door, he tilted his head over his shoulder. "And _don't_ get Isabela, please. I don't feel like walking through a sodding minefield of innuendoes today." He disappeared into the house, and I felt a silly grin stretch my face.

Perhaps this could still be a good day, after all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe kind of a little bit NSFW, but only for about a paragraph, so it's at your discretion.

I could go on and on about the beauty of the Wounded Coast. It was currently midday, and the sun was reflecting off of the bright blue water, making it sparkle and look _so_ inviting. No clouds were in the sky, and a soft breeze blew every so often, just enough to cool you off. It was a nice summer day, warm enough that the sea would be inviting in its coolness, but not so hot that you fear you'll melt. Some days I missed the marvel of air conditioning and expect to melt into a little puddle of Caydee, seeping into the ground never to be seen again. 

Thankfully, today was not one of those days.

It was a day that found me staring slack jawed at the man in front of me who was wearing nothing but a pair of shorts made for swimming. Shorter than their earth counterparts, they ended mid-thigh and were currently clinging to the bulging muscles of his upper leg. Unaware of my gawking, he was stretching his arms to the sky, his back rippling in a manner that made me want to walk over and caress it. He turned slightly so that I could see his front, just as defined and damned attractive. Eyes closed, he smiled as he enjoyed the feel of the outdoors on his bare skin, the breeze ruffling his dark hair in a way befitting of movies.

I was enjoying it too, but in a completely different manner. Thank God I was born a female, because being a man right now would be mighty embarrassing. I snapped my mouth shut and looked away quickly when he opened his eyes, doing my best to stifle the blush I felt rising. Laughter drifted my way, and I risked a glance back at him. His eyes were dancing in amusement as he made his way over to where my feet were currently rooted into the ground. As he stepped closer, I raised my hands and placed them on his chest without even realizing it, eyes widening once I noticed. 

"Uh, sorry, I...I... uh," I stuttered unhelpfully, withdrawing my hands from the tantalizing chest in front of me. He laughed again, a low, sinful thing that shot straight to my nether regions, making me squirm. I was beginning to think it really was a mistake bringing him out here. All I had managed to do was remove my shoes and stare at him. I wasn't even sure that I could control my appendages enough to actually swim, or if I would drown just watching him move. Anders running past me butt-naked would have had less effect than this.

I felt a tug on my dress, and I looked down to see his hands holding the hem. A glance upward showed him smirking at me, apparently relishing my inability to speak coherently. He tugged on it again before voicing his displeasure that he was ready to go swimming whereas I was still fully clothed. I felt my cheeks redden as I allowed him to pull it over my head, revealing the breast band I had specifically picked for this endeavor. It was more conservative, covering more than some of the others I owned. Still I covered my chest with my arms, looking at the ground and turning a darker shade of red at being revealed like this. In that moment I envied women who were confident in their bodies, wishing I had been able to develop the same. But I never did, and even though my stomach was currently flat, my breasts full, and I was lacking my tiger stripes from earth and having children, I still didn't feel pretty. 

"Hey," he said softly, a hand under my chin pulling me up to look at him. "Don't be shy. It's just me." His other hand reached down and latched onto one of my wrists, pulling it away from me and placing it on his hip. He let go of my chin and repeated the motion with his other hand, pulling me into his chest once my arms were safely removed from between us. He rested his cheek on the top of my head for a moment, just holding me while I gathered my bearings. After several deep breaths and some mental berating, I finally pulled back. I, too, had found a pair of shorts and had decided upon wearing them over my smalls and under my dress. This way I felt at least a little more comfortable. It felt a little odd to think about the fact that I had worn bikinis on earth when I was still single, but here I was, unable to wear essentially the same thing in front of Carver. My mind was a strange thing to contemplate, but I had no desire to get lost in it so I shook my head and focused on the present.

He held out a hand to me, pulling me toward the Waking Sea once I took it. We stepped into the chilly water, and I let out a small yelp at the unexpected coldness. Stupidly, I had expected it to be warmer. I backed up a few steps, screwing up my face as I adjusted to the temperature of the liquid lapping at my feet. I heard a snort and looked to see Carver watching me, obviously entertained by my little show. "It's cold," I whined, which made him laugh loudly and tease me for stating the obvious. A wicked smile crossed his face suddenly, and before I had the ability to comprehend what he was doing, he had me slung over his shoulder as though I weighed nothing and was running into the ocean. Squealing, I fought to get out of his grip, much to his amusement.

He paused once he was in water past his waist. "So you want down, huh?" he asked. I started to protest, knowing what comes next when he tossed me into the water. I splashed into the frigid water and went under, my feet reaching out to find footing. When I did I surfaced and barrelled into him, knocking him over. 

"You're a fucking asshole!" I laughed, beating at his chest jokingly when he stood up again. He joined in my laughter, and reached out to do it again. I shrieked and took off running, him not far behind. Unfortunately for me, I am much, _much_ shorter than him and he caught up quite quickly. He picked me up again and started carting me off toward the deeper water while I giggled in delight. He dropped me a few more times, chasing after me once I was up and running, both of us enjoying the game. Out of breath, I stood up and begged for a break, stating that I just needed a few moments to recover. He acquiesced, though not panting nearly as hard as me. Stupid long legs. I waded out a little further until I was standing in water up to my shoulders, just watching the birds dip and fly around. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the happiness and serenity that was currently housed in my soul. 

I felt arms circle me and pull me back into his chest. "Is this okay?" he whispered into my ear, and I nodded, shivering at the hot breath contrasting with the cool water. I leaned my head back, the warmth emanating from his body pressed against mine doing nothing to stem the desire I had felt curling in my belly earlier. We stood like that for a while, his chin resting on my head, thoughts flying through my mind about a million miles per hour, a fair amount of them rather dirty. There was no denying that I felt an attraction to the man holding me, on both the physical and emotional level. It was something I had never expected to find again, least of all with him. The strength of my emotions were also much deeper than I'd ever experienced before, which threw me off quite a bit. I had always known my husband was not my "one," but had settled because I was content with him after a few years, unlike any of the others. Even in the throes of a new relationship with him, I had never felt this intensity before. It was new, and it was quite scary.

Yet I wasn't 100% certain what Carver wanted out of this. He was constantly sending me mixed messages, confusing the hell out of me. I've never been good at reading people in general, so throw in something like what he does and I'm buggered. Sometimes he seemed like all he wanted to do was lean down and kiss me, while other times he acted as though he only desired friendship. He was a very tactile person, seeming to want to be in some sort of contact with me at all times when we were together. That I was accustomed to, as both my husband and best friend had been the same way, not to mention Anders' propensity towards touch. I typically avoid touching and being touched like the plague, but if someone manages to scale my walls and get to know me better, I'll allow it. Sometimes I might even enjoy it, but it's not something freely given by me. Of course I was fine with my brother, but Carver had wormed his way into that privilege without me even noticing he did it. His desire for contact was more or less a constant, and I was still trying to convince myself not to read into it. The last thing I wanted was to get too attached or to get my hopes up and be let down. 

I felt a small squeeze as he tightened his grip around me for a moment, bringing me out of my head. Usually that was a prelude to him letting go and moving on to something else, but as he let off the pressure, his arms remained firm around me. _Huh, that's new._ I felt him press a soft kiss to my hair before he whispered my name in a low and raspy voice. A shudder ran through my body at the sound, and I turned around fully in his grasp to look up at him. The look on his face drug me back to the day in the clinic after I woke when he very nearly kissed me, and I felt my heart speed up. I drew my bottom lip between my teeth, unsure what would happen. I had been so convinced we were going to kiss that day, and when Garrett interrupted, I had assumed Carver would return to finish what we had started. Having been proven wrong once, I was a bit leery of letting my imagination run wild with what I saw in front of me. 

His left arm removed itself from my back and he brought it up to my face, gently pulling my lip back out with his thumb. He rubbed it across my lips for a moment, his face soft but yearning as he watched the movement. Pressure was building in my chest with anticipation and I felt like I was about to explode when he finally dipped his head down and tentatively pressed his lips to mine. A small gasp escaped me before I melted into his arms, leaning into the kiss. Encouraged, he pulled me closer to him, tongue lapping gently at my lips, requesting entrance. I granted it, and he dove in without hesitation. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, standing on my tiptoes to get even closer. When we broke apart to breathe, he tilted to touch his forehead to mine, panting softly. A hand cupped my cheek, thumb caressing my cheekbone, and I nuzzled into it slightly. He gave a small chuckle and pulled me back in for another kiss, this one more passionate than the last. His hands fell to my waist and he pulled me in flush against him, my arms still around his neck. A shift in the water around us made me stumble slightly, and in a motion so smooth I wondered where he got the practice, his hands moved down to my thighs and he picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and tightened my grip on his neck, our faces now even. Without stopping the kiss, he made his way to the shore slowly, pausing only to take a quick breath and readjust his hold on me.

He continued walking past the sand of the beach until he hit the grass, where he made an attempt to set me down. I wasn't having any of that, so when he leaned over to place me on the ground, I used his lack of leverage against him and pulled him down with me so that we were both lying in the grass, him on top, my legs still wrapped around his waist. He broke away from my lips to place kisses along my jaw and down my neck, nipping softly at my collarbone. I let out another gasp and thrust my hips up, causing him to moan deeply. I threaded my hands into his hair and tugged him back up for another searing kiss, rocking my hips back and forth against the growing hardness in his shorts. It had been over a year since I had last had sex, and my body was very much in favor of that happening immediately. Judging from the noises and movements coming from my companion, his didn't have any objections either. I was rubbing myself against him like a cat in heat, but my libido had taken over and my mind had shut down, so I didn't give a single fuck.

Without warning, he pulled away, sitting up and detaching my legs from him. Confused, I leaned up on my elbows, looking to see why he had slid off me so abruptly. He glanced over at me and saw the hurt blossoming across my face, causing him to shake his head and reach out to cup my cheek again. "Not here," he whispered, drawing my attention back to the fact that we were in the wide open outdoors where anyone could see us. "If we continue, I don't think I'll be able to stop," he explained in a rough voice, pressing his forehead against mine. I let out a shuddering breath and nodded, understanding what he meant. This was not the time or the place. 

A breeze rolled over us and I shivered, goosebumps cropping up across my skin. Without hesitation, he pulled me off the ground and into his lap, rubbing his hands up and down my arms in an attempt to warm me up. I smiled, leaning my head against his chest, enjoying the warmth of his body. After the last drop of water had dried from our bodies, we broke apart and got dressed. We both had rather goofy looks on our face, exchanging shy smiles like school kids. It was actually rather exhilarating. 

Once dressed, we sat back down in the grass next to each other, his arm slung around me, my head on his shoulder. We sat like that in silence for a time, comfortable in our companionship. 

"Sing for me." It was blunt, his voice still slightly hoarse from before. I sat up and looked at him, causing him to smile at me sheepishly. "If, if you want to, that is. I mean, I like your voice. Singing. I like it when you sing." He frowned, obviously frustrated that he couldn't get the words to come out in the order he desired the first time. I laughed and kissed his cheek, telling him that of course I'd sing for him. His face lit up and a smile stretched wide, making my heart flutter. I'd do anything for that smile. 

I laid my cheek back on his shoulder, pondering what to sing. Most of the songs I was mentally flipping through were love songs, and I wasn't too keen on something super sappy right now. Too soon, much too soon for that. So I tried to think of songs that would remind me of Carver. I discarded a few due to being too rock and roll for me to sing and a couple more due to the use of the "L" word before I settled on one I thought would work. I cleared my throat and started a song I hadn't heard in a long time.

_"Blackbird singing in the dead of night,_  
_Take these broken wings and learn to fly._  
_All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise._

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night,_  
_Take these sunken eyes and learn to see._  
_All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free._

_Blackbird, fly. Blackbird, fly.  
Into the light of the dark black night."_

I felt rather than saw his smile, and was happy when he pulled me into a hug. "That was beautiful," he whispered, leaning down to kiss me again. I sighed contentedly, returning the kiss when the noise of someone gagging caused us to jump apart.

Garrett. Of course that fucker would be standing behind us, a look of pure disgust on his face. He was still making the gagging noises as we scrambled to our feet, both of our faces beet red. He was not alone, though; Isabela was there, delight written across all of her features letting me know I'd be hearing about this soon. Anders was gazing at us with amusement, and Merrill seemed much too excited, clapping her hands with glee. Fenris was watching the birds fly over the sea, which was completely fine with me. Varric was chuckling and writing something down in a notebook. _Oooooh, he'd better not be writing me into any stories,_ I grumped.

We made our way to the group in front of us, Carver catching a bag when Garrett flung it at his head. "We're going to find a Magistrate's son," he snarled at Carver, "if you're _quite_ done shirking off your responsibilities for a make-out session." Carver bristled but said nothing, making me wonder if he was ashamed at being caught or if he decided it wasn't worth the fight. My shoulders slumped as I watched him join the group, assuming I was about to be sent home, left behind _again_.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Anders smiling at me warmly, a bag held in his outstretched hand. "I'm...I'm coming?" I asked as I took it, disbelief painted across my face. He nodded and gestured to join the group, and I almost tripped over myself in my hurry to follow. Garrett sneered at me from the front but turned to lead us to our destination. Carver fell back to walk by my side, listening as Anders explained the plans. We had to find a ruin somewhere along the Wounded Coast and then search inside for a Magistrate Vanard's son. Garrett had been stopped by him in Hightown earlier that morning and had spent most of the time since searching for Carver to get the group started, hence why he was so pissed to find him out here. Anders had been the last one gathered for the trip, and had the unfortunate luck to be the one to tell Garrett where his brother was. In exchange for that information, he had managed to secure permission for me to join them. They were hoping for a 2-3 day trip, one day to find the ruins and hopefully also this Keldar, one day to come home, an extra day to account for variables that can't be predicted. Anders had packed a bag for me, hoping he brought everything I needed. I assured him I'd be fine, simply pleased to be allowed to participate for once. 

A hand slid into mine and I looked over to see Carver staring ahead, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I allowed myself a full grin, not having a reputation as the surly one to uphold. I heard a soft guffaw to my other side and found that Anders had been replaced by Varric who was watching us with barely contained mirth. 

"It's about time you two got your shit figured out," he said, a teasing smile on his face. "I thought Junior was going to brood himself into the ground before he worked up the nerve to kiss you." I chuckled, squeezing the hand I was holding and getting an answering squeeze back. Varric's look softened as he watched us. "Look, I know Hawke isn't too thrilled about this arrangement, but you're good for him. He's less grumpy with you around." I rolled my eyes at the repeat of something Anders had already told me but nodded to acknowledge his statement. "And hey, Junior?" he called past me.

"Yes, dwarf?" 

"You take good care of Starling here, or you won't just have an angry elder brother to deal with. Bianca just happens to like our little songbird." And with that, the man jogged slightly to catch back up to Garrett, leaving Carver and me alone at the back of the group. I tilted my head, watching Varric scamper off. So he'd finally come up with a nickname for me. Starling. I could live with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Blackbird by the Beatles. Not mine, obviously. :)


	11. Chapter 11

I remembered some of vague details of this from the quest in-game, but in person, the truth became very clear: Kelder was insane. I'm not just saying that to be cruel, I mean it literally. Thedas may not have anything fancy like the ICD-10 to define illnesses, but it was quite obvious the man suffered from schizophrenia. I was intimately familiar with that particular one, as my mother was afflicted with a rather severe case herself. All the signs were there, but without the modern medicine of earth, there was nothing I could offer as a true alternative to the group's preference of killing him. That is exactly what Garrett did, too, despite the Magistrate's desire to the contrary. 

We were currently all sitting around the campfire finishing off the roasted nugs Anders and I had tracked down for supper. Varric had, of course, brought along some ale, because, well, _dwarf_. Merrill was passed out near the fire, her one small glass of the drink having caused her to fall asleep rather quickly. Carver stood up from his seat near me and strode over to her sleeping form, carefully picking her up and carrying her back to her tent. I watched this with a small smile on my face, marveling at the gentle giant hidden underneath all the bitterness and anger at the world. Anders was engaging Varric in a one-sided conversation about mage rights, the latter nodding along, humoring him. I knew from experience exactly how passionate Anders could get, and he was obviously past the point of no return, leaving poor Varric stuck until he could find a good excuse to escape. Fenris was off in a secluded corner of the camp with a whetstone, cleaning and sharpening his blade in quite the tender manner. Carver and I had been sitting next to each other in comfortable silence, watching the fire burn.

So then where is the famous Garrett Hawke, you ask? Well, currently he had a lap full of pirate who was busy attempting to eat his face. They had been flirting outrageously all evening, and if their heated make-out session was a prelude of what was to follow that night, I was going to be shoving my headphones in my ears and cranking up the music on my phone. It didn't escape my notice that both Anders and Fenris had been casting glares in their direction, though I wasn't sure if it was jealousy or disgust. Carver stepped out of Merrill's tent, closing it, and immediately started making gagging noises at the couple. All that did was earn him a glare over Isabela's shoulder before they returned to their previous activity. I angled myself away from them, my thoughts drifting back to Kelder.

He had begged for us to end his life, convinced the "demons" were driving him mad. The elven girl we had rescued had been so young, it hurt my heart as a parent to think of anything happening to her. I had been rather enraged about everything he had done in the past, but again, I know schizophrenia when I see it. It may not equate to a "get out of jail free" card, but it certainly explained his actions. I knew I had taken a lot of things for granted back on earth, and the fact that there were valid treatments for people like him- and my mother- on my home world was a very reassuring thought. At least I knew she would never have to succumb to a fate such as his.

But I did wonder about her now. She had only raised me for the first 9 months of my life before she had to pass me off to my grandparents due to her inability to actually take care of me. Once I turned 18, it seemed like our roles reversed and I became the parent and she, the child. I had to take over her finances and try to help her through the complexities of day-to-day life. She could live in her own place well enough, getting the bare necessities she needed on her own, but everything else had to be handled by someone more capable. I never knew for sure if her medicine was the cause of her eternal brain fog or if it was related to her illness, but it was why she needed so much help. Without me there, I hoped someone would step up to the plate. I doubted my husband would; he was only related to her by marriage, after all, and his extreme view on family ties only extended to his blood, never mine. The rest of our so-called family paid her as much attention as they did me: none. It was rather frightening to consider how she might be alone and screwed without me there. At least my children had their father.

The brush of a hand across my cheek told me I was crying as Carver wiped away some of the tears. He crouched in front of me, blue eyes searching mine as he continued to catch the droplets as they fell with his thumbs. He didn't know about my mother. Hell, I hadn't told him much of my past, my _real_ past, yet. It's dark and full of pain, so I avoid remembering it as much as possible. Anything before my husband and children gets tucked away into a little locked chest in the back of my mind, where cobwebs and dust can settle over it like an old forgotten heirloom. Anders knew because I told him everything over time, as things came up that reminded me, when he caught me waking from yet another nightmare about my childhood, when I fell apart just because. After approaching Kelder in the ruins, he had glanced over at me in concern when he too had put together the pieces of the puzzle that revealed the man as sick. He had tried to grab me as I ran from the scene of Fenris' blade piercing the man's heart, from Garrett's cold order to kill him. Evasion training as well as pure distraught had kept me out of his grasp as I rushed outside into the fresh air. That had been a mistake, of course, because I ran into the soldiers and the elves still waiting for us. Through some purposeful stuttering and the pretense of shock, I had wormed my way out of being the one to deliver the news and had instead marched to a clearing beneath an old oak tree, where I sat and tried to get myself together before the group caught up. I had managed to do so, but just barely. Then it was all hurried explanations and thinly veiled threats from the guards and an extremely thankful elven father until Garrett announced for us to move forward. We had spent more time in the ruins than we had hoped, and had been forced to set up camp rather than continue on in the dark. Hence, now.

Carver's eyes were watching me still, an unspoken question reaching out to me. I shook my head, promising myself that I would explain it all once we were back in Kirkwall and, more importantly, _alone_. I had no interest in setting my past out for all to see, especially a past that wasn't supposed to be real. I knew at this point that was the big reason Anders wasn't harassing me; we needed to keep it hidden, unless he too wanted to have a schizophrenic mother. Carver accepted my wish, simply moving to sit by my side and placing a sympathetic arm around my shoulders. Leaning into him, I rested my cheek on his arm and closed my eyes, letting the feelings continue to wash over me, knowing I was too far gone to dampen them at this point. So far he had been the only one to notice, and with everyone else occupied with something else, I hoped it would remain that way.

Of course, I have terrible luck, so it couldn't be so simple.

A rough laugh drifted across the fire that I was content to ignore. At least, until the question that followed it was spoken. "Upset that we killed him?" Garrett asked in a tone I couldn't quite place. I quickly sat up and looked at him, the flames reflecting in his dark eyes making him seem more menacing than usual. I cocked my head to the side, curious but not wanting to verbally take the bait. There was no direction a conversation like this could go that would be good, and I was hoping it would sputter and die without me feeding into it. No such luck. After a lengthy pause, he laughed again. "Afraid that you could be next? After all, the only thing wrong with him was that he was utterly insane. Sound familiar?" The words were mocking, mean. Everyone else had stilled in their movements, conversations dropped once he had started speaking to me. Isabela shifted off of him, moving to sit next to Varric, unable to meet my eyes. I pursed my mouth, still unwilling to engage him. _He has no idea what he's talking about,_ I told myself. _Don't let it get under your skin. He doesn't **know**. _

A sound to my right caused me look over, and I saw Anders had moved to sit next to me, his eyes cold and hard as he looked at Garrett. He laid a gentle hand on top of mine, and I chose to intertwine our fingers. Carver's arm had remained around my shoulders even after I had sat up, and his grip tightened as his brother continued. "Your pity is wasted. He was a monster. Be sure that you don't become one as well, or I'll put you down myself."

Both men beside me bristled, and I found myself unable to remain silent any longer. "Stop." After another laugh from him, I set my jaw and stared straight into his eyes. "I'm not afraid of you, no matter how tough you think you are. You don't know a damned thing about me, so _just. Stop_."

"I know all I'm ever likely to," he said softly, a sneer on his face.

"Quite right," I agreed, still gazing at him. If there had ever been a thought in my mind about moving past his previous behavior and becoming friends with this man, it dissolved at that moment. I had no intentions of letting someone like that get to know me at all. 

Fenris had approached the group, his now-gleaming broadsword held loosely at his side, standing next to Garrett. I did not miss the meaning of that, nor did I particularly care in the moment. Let everyone take sides, bugger if I cared. It was not a new wound to be left behind in a group of _friends_. The air was tense, anger and hatred floating around the camp. Still, I did not lower my gaze. There was a cough and the clearing of a throat, then Varric spoke. "It's time for a change of subject. Starling, would you regale us with one of your beautiful songs?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "I'm afraid I'm not in the singing mood, Varric. Try again later." Garrett's gaze flickered to the dwarf momentarily, and I took that as a minor victory. Disentangling myself from the men beside me, I stood up, planning on heading to bed. It was late, I was tired, sad and now grumpy. No better reason to excuse myself to my tent. Stepping carefully over a few of the random supplies still sitting out, I made my way to the sorry piece of canvas I was to sleep in that night. I paused holding the flap open when I heard footsteps approaching. "Now's not really a good time to be around me," I said apologetically, staring into the darkness of my tent. Despite my warning, hands fell on my shoulders and I was turned around to be engulfed in a hug from Carver.

"My brother is a bloody dick. Ignore him," he whispered into my hair. I relaxed, burrowing into his chest and returning the hug. His smell surrounded me and it was slightly cathartic, taking the edge off of my sour mood. I sighed, tingles running down my spine as he gently stoked my hair. I pulled away slightly and tugged at him, causing him to look down at me curiously. Grabbing his hand, I gently maneuvered us into my tent, motioning for him to lie down. He did so, confusion causing his brows to come together until I joined him, laying my head on his chest and throwing a leg across his. He chuckled quietly, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me closer to him, placing a kiss on the top of my head. His presence gave me comfort, and I was in desperate need of it after the events of today. His heartbeat was steady, calming, and I just laid there, listening to it. We stayed like that for an unknown amount of time, content to be in each others company. 

I was just about to drift off into the realm of dreams when I heard voices rising outside. I didn't know if the argument started as soon as I left or if they waited until there was a chance I was asleep, but it sounded like Garrett and Anders were having a go at each other. Despite the volume increasing steadily, I was unable to make out what was being said. I sat up, straining to make sense of the garbled sounds. A hand latched onto my wrist, and I glanced down to see Carver watching me warily, a slight shake of his head indicating he knew what I was thinking of doing and was advising against it. I gave him a small, sad smile before leaning down to place a quick kiss on his lips. His grip loosened, and I stood up, heading to the front of the tent. Shuffling behind me meant he was following, and as we stepped back out into the chilled night air, his hand grasped mine. Quietly we made our way toward the voices, coming from where the fire was burning low. 

"You shouldn't have threatened her. She is my sister, and if you can't curb your incessant need to be rude to her, I'll have to remove myself from your services." Anders' voice, filled with anger. 

"She's _crazy._ You've said as much yourself. That's dangerous. She can't be trusted to come on missions. What if she turns against us? Have you thought about that?" Garrett was pacing, arms behind his back.

"She won't. I've told you that over and over again. She. Is. Harmless. To. Us." Every word was bitten off, laced with ill-hidden rage.

"What I don't get is why you're so hard on the kid. You're accepting of the rest of our flaws, why is she so different?" Ah. Hello, Varric, good to see you're at least partly on my side.

"Insanity is not something to be taken lightly, dwarf." Fenris' cold voice rang out, low and dangerous.

"Says the homicidal elf who hates mages. Who should we be fearing, again?" Dripping with sarcasm, Anders' voice had raised in pitch slightly. 

A low growl. "Watch your tone, _mage_. It is you who I dislike. You and your _demon_."

"Justice is not a demon!" The fire flared suddenly, growing large and hot again as a surge of magic pushed through the air.

"Now, now, Broody, Blondie, let's not burn down the forest. Hawke, you're willing to put up with a mage who is housing a spirit of justice, and an elf who can phase out of reality to place a fist into your chest. Not to mention Daisy, who is a blood mage. Why is _Starling_ the one you're so concerned about?"

Garrett sighed and stopped pacing, running a hand through his hair. "Because of Carver." 

I felt the man in question stiffen beside me and I squeezed his hand. He was staring straight ahead with a blank look on his face, and I wondered just what was going on in his head. Turning my attention back to the group, I saw that Garrett had sat down and placed his head in his hands.

"Carver's my little brother. He blames me for the deaths of father and Bethy, as maybe he should. He's an ass, he's whiny and he pisses me off most of the time, but he's still my _brother_. He deserves better than her."

Anders' brow knitted together and he opened his mouth to retort but was beaten to the punch by Varric. "I disagree, Hawke."

Garrett looked up, shock written across his face. "You...what?"

"I disagree. She's good for him. Shit, they're good for _each other._ Don't you see how happy he is? He's less moody and more inclined to do as you ask without arguing. I don't know why, but Starling seems to be helping Junior grow up. You don't have to like it, but you should accept it. They're both kids, but they're old enough to make this choice for themselves. And remember, you're not the only older brother here. I'm sure you wouldn't appreciate it if Anders treated Junior like you do her." Varric was polishing Bianca (again) as he spoke, his voice even, almost unconcerned. Anders crossed his arms and glared at Garrett, as though attempting to drive the last point home. 

"Well, _I_ think your brother may just be an excuse. You've always treated her this way, ever since the day we met you." Garrett looked almost hurt by the accusation, his gaze faltering as Anders glared at him. "But I agree with Varric. This is _their_ choice. Not mine, not yours, _theirs._ "

"No. I am the man of the family, father made me promise to take care of everyone after he died. That makes it my job to ensure Carver gets what he deserves." His voice wavered slightly even as he made the declaration, as though he was starting to realize this was an argument he was not going to win.

"Perhaps we should ask those in question what their opinion is as opposed to attempting to reach a resolution for them." Fenris was looking our way, and even though we were hidden behind the trees, I had a feeling he knew that we were there. Carver must have felt the same, for he grunted in response and starting walking toward the group, pulling me in his wake. As we entered the light, I watched as horror, then resignation dawned on both of our brothers' faces, obviously ashamed to have been caught discussing us. Varric tossed a smile our way, waving cheerfully, while Fenris simply inclined his head to both of us to acknowledge our presence. 

"Carver, I..." Garrett started, obviously caught off-kilter by having his brother join the conversation.

"No." It was more of a grunt than a word, but the finality behind it was clear. Garrett blinked a couple of times in confusion before trying again.

"I just think..."

" _No._ " Louder this time and clearer, Carver turned to glare at his brother. "No, I don't bloody care what you think. It's my life, yeah? So I get to make the sodding decisions in it, not you. You think you know what's best for me, but you _don't_ , because you don't know _me_. Just like you don't know _her_ ," he jabbed a finger in my direction. I lifted my chin in defiance when Garrett's eyes flickered to me before looking back at his brother. 

"You sound like a fool, Carver," he gritted out between clenched teeth. "A whiny child, just like always." 

"Why? Because I don't give a nug's ass what you think? Because I don't feel the need to do _everything_ you ruddy tell me to? No. Mother likes her. She's always asking me to bring her around, but I _don't_ because of _you._ " Carver was snarling, his grip on my hand so tight that it hurt. I winced a little in pain, trying to hide it but he saw out of the corner of his eye and loosened it quickly, casting a quick apologetic glance my way.

"Do you think she'd like her if she knew about her issues? Think carefully on that, little brother, think _very_ carefully."

"She does know." I had been in the middle of exchanging glances with Anders when that fell from his mouth. I whipped my head around to stare at Carver, shock written all over my face. I could see it firmly take hold of Garrett too; obviously neither of us expected that. "She asks a lot of questions, but if I can answer, I will. She knows, but she still likes her. Your opinion isn't the bloody law."

"Your mother...likes me? Even knowing...?" I gaped up at Carver, unable to finish the sentence. 

He turned to me, letting go of my hand to place his palms on my cheeks. He looked deep into my eyes, a smile tugging at his lips when he answered "Yes. She likes you a lot, actually. Says you're real nice and that you have kind eyes." A grin slowly spread over my face as I took in what he said. He touched his forehead to mine for a moment before turning back to his brother. "You're not always right, yeah? Sometimes you are wrong, like now. I want to be with Caydee and I will, no matter what you bloody say about it."

Garrett opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it, a frown forming. Apparently Carver rendered him speechless. A soft hand touched my arm and I tilted my head to see who it was. Anders had approached me, warmth radiating from his eyes. "What do you have to say on the matter, sweetheart?" he asked quietly.

I paused a moment, considering what to say, before answering him. "I think my choice is fairly obvious." I looked pointedly at my hand intertwined with Carver's before continuing. "But you were wrong earlier." At his confused look, I elaborated. "You said Garrett has always treated me this way. You're wrong. It wasn't until after the Chantry incident. Specifically, after I woke up and you guys returned from Sundermount, I think. After he walked in on us almost kissing?" My face was screwed up in thought as I tried to place the exact moment I had felt him start to give me the cold shoulder. It's possible it would have been sooner, but I was unconscious at the time, so it's not like I'd have known. But I didn't recall being ignored immediately after the Chantry and I know I wasn't during the battle. So it had to be then. I was fairly sure of it.

"She's right." It was said so quietly I almost didn't hear it. Both Anders and I turned to look at Garrett, who was watching us with a mournful expression on his face. "You two jumped apart like you were on fire, but I knew why. You were no concern of mine as long as you stayed out of my way before that moment. But then you took it a step further than just being in my way. You planted yourself in my brother's life." He shook his head slowly, his frown deepening, before he stood up. "I'm going to bed." Without any further explanation, he turned on his heel and strode to his tent, disappearing behind the flap, leaving the rest of us standing there, staring at each other.

"Well," Varric started, still looking at the tent. "I think that's progress, at least." He smiled at us again before dismissing himself as well. One by one, they all disappeared into their tents, Anders giving me a brief hug and nodding his head at Carver before he left. Soon it was just the two of us, quietly standing by the fire. He dropped my hand and made to put out the flames, returning to my side when done. He looked at me questioningly, and I just fell into his arms. I am so bad at reading faces, I wasn't sure why he was looking at me like that. 

After a time, I think he got the point. He chuckled softly before asking if I was going to be okay to sleep alone tonight. Smiling, I laid my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, thinking about the answer. I took long enough that he prodded me gently before repeating his question. Slowly, considering my words before I said them, I answered him.

"I think I will be fine, but it'll be easier to sleep if I'm not alone." He nodded and leaned down to plant a chaste kiss on my lips before leading me back to my tent. He slipped away to change into his sleep pants, allowing me to change into the shift I had brought with before he returned, his bedroll also in tow. I smiled at him shyly as he set it up, joining him once done and resuming the position we were in earlier, my head on his chest with a leg across his. Pulling the blanket up over us, he pulled me tightly to him and pressed another kiss to the top of my head. "Goodnight, Carver," I mumbled, feeling the gentle tug of sleep.

"Goodnight, Caydee."


	12. Chapter 12

The hot August sun beat down on the multitudes of statues, each depicting slaves bent over and broken, resigned to carrying out their masters' wills. The Gallows was full of them, a disheartening reminder of the city's less-than-illustrious past. It was near impossible to turn a corner without finding more, always beat down, always depressing. The once bright metal of them had faded with time and weather, erosion making certain features hard to distinguish. Even so, they still presented a frightening scene, and when combined with the aura of fear and oppression radiating from the mages, it made the air seem thick and heavy with despair.

Despite the sweltering heat, I shivered as the ferry neared the dock, the magic in the air crackling around my skin, drawing the hair on my arms to stand up. It seemed almost alive; the type of magic constantly shifting, shooting off in different directions- not necessarily unstable, but unpredictable, for sure. With so many mages confined to the small island and the templars working their own brand of magic- whether or not they admit to it being so- the air was laden with energy, and I coughed with my suddenly dry throat. A gentle hand landed on my shoulder; a silent reminder that I was not alone. I watched the water lap softly around us, parting with no effort to allow us passage. The dock was made out of old, sturdy wood, still in good shape despite its constant use. We pulled up to it, and I was the first off, tipping my head to thank the driver. I watched my companions disembark and swallowed silently, preparing myself for what was ahead.

Varric had heard a rumor about a young woman making noise, saying that her brother had gone missing. Garrett had investigated just enough to find out the base details; the sister's name was Macha, Keran was a Templar recruit, hadn't heard from him for a few days, etc. His interest in the case had waned upon finding out it involved Templars, and he had waffled a bit about whether to continue. I had dropped hints to both Anders and Carver that it would be a good thing to look into, succeeding in finding an ear with Carver. It had raised Garrett's hackles slightly to have his brother telling him that even if he chose to ignore it, Carver would not. After some arguing and a slight pissing contest, Garrett had grudgingly agreed to keep working on it. Since the next step was to go to the Gallows and speak with other recruits (despite me knowing we needed to find the Knight-Captain- no easy way to explain that knowledge), he and Anders had bowed out, unwilling to take the risk. So Carver stepped forward, and of course I followed. Garrett had cooled a bit in his inane treatment of me, but was still obviously uncomfortable, always watching me with wary and slightly tired eyes. He had waved his hand in a manner similar to a king and requested that we be accompanied by Isabela. She agreed, though if he thought she was likely to do anything to stop any sort of romantic overtures, he was a fool. She had only ever _encouraged_ such acts in the past- he of all people should know that about her.

The others were all set to go hunting the Flint Company Mercenaries that were scattered around the area, having spoken with Prince Sebastian Vael recently. I had not been present at that meeting, as is the way of life. I wanted to see him up close, too; yet another man in the long line of unfairly handsome men in the Dragon Age universe. But I was most likely on my way to visit Cullen, so I was content, for the moment. I was quite curious to see him pre-Inquisition, with his curly hair and what looked to be a goatee.

Goodness knows this place had more than its fair share of extremely attractive individuals. I'd never been around so many ridiculously good-looking people at once in my life.

And currently I was sandwiched between two of them.

Carver was striding assuredly next to me, his sapphire blue eyes locked straight in front of him, a frown curving his lips down. His pale skin was offset by his stark black hair, such an unusual contrast. His broad shoulders were held straight, leather armor only accenting their width by leaving his arms bare. His sword hung on his back, a large 2-hander that was perfect for him in battle. He was also very tall; my 5'4" frame only allowed the top of my head to barely brush his shoulders. Isabela, in contrast, was only a few inches taller than me and her skin was such a beautiful brown that it made both Carver's and my skin look almost sickly white when next to her. Her hair cascaded in gentle waves down to her shoulders, held in place by a deep blue head scarf. Her eyes were large and a deep brown, constantly scanning the area around her and full of humor. Her full lips were lifted in a mischievous smile as she winked at some of the younger Templars we passed, causing a few to turn colors with the unexpected attention from the ravishing young pirate.

We halted in front of a small group of recruits, Isabela sashaying up to them and flirting her way into information. Carver and I stood back and watched, exchanging amused glances as she charmed all of them without a single issue- even the young woman, Ruvena. After she completed her interrogation, she tossed them all a coy smile and blew kisses at the two men and lone woman. As she walked back to us she swung her hips a little more than necessary- but it did not escape my notice that all of the recruits were caught by the motion. She gestured for us to follow, waiting until we were all aboard the ferry again before divulging what she found out. I let my mind wander as she told Carver the little information they had which was leading us to Sundermount to find Cullen, all things I already knew in at least a vague detail. Leaning against the rail of the small boat, I watched the water churn, considering how wise it would be for the three of us to go up the mountain on our own. We had no mage- so no healing, which could be an issue. _Unless_...

I could still feel the tug of magic from the Gallows as we floated away, so I knew it wasn't too late. I opened myself up and let the energy flow through me, trying to siphon as much as I could even as the link weakened. Gathering magic through the air was the least effective way I had, but no other option was currently presenting itself. Without a mage to cast spells at me or for me to pull mana directly from, I had to improvise to the best of my ability. I screwed my eyes shut, focusing on the magic I could still feel, doing my best to latch onto the energy and absorb as much as I could. The further away we moved, the more my icy blood warmed, letting me know I couldn't hold on much longer. Finally, the bond broke and I sagged forward, mentally exhausted from the effort it took to hang on so long.

"Cay? Are you okay?" Carver's concerned voice washed over me, a hand gently falling on top of mine. I blinked as I looked at it, noticing that I had been gripping the rail so tight that my knuckles had turned white. I released my grip, carefully stretching out my palms and fingers as I finally realized how sore they were. I turned and gave him a wan smile, causing his frown to deepen. Knowing it was not safe to speak about my abilities in public, I shrugged and changed the subject, asking if we were planning on pursuing the Knight-Captain today. It was a successful attempt, leading us to discuss how to continue on our quest as we finished the ride back to the city proper.

 

~*~

 

The rocky terrain on this particular point of Sundermount was close to insurmountable, piles of stones and rubble haphazardly scattered around steep cliffs and a few dangerously hidden crevices. There was a limited amount of vegetation in the area, bits of grass poking out here and there between rocks as land allowed, but for the most part it was barren. A large nest of spiders was hidden in a crag that we accidentally disturbed, causing them to come skittering toward us full of fury and spitting acidic venom. We were able to dispatch them fairly quickly, thanks to Isabela's ability to disappear and then reappear behind her quarry, slashing out in fast, deadly movements combined with Carver's ominous greatsword hacking anything that came too close to him to bits. I helped some too, of course, my arrows flying to kill, but the fact of the matter is that they did most of the work. Soon we were knee deep in spider parts and ichor, hoping that was the last of any vermin we'd run into today.

As Carver and I stood considering a placement of rocks that could herald our death, Isabela rolled her eyes at us and started climbing up the precipice expertly. At our bemused looks at her quickly scaling to the top, she shrugged and gave up a sly smile, claiming being a pirate has its advantages. She then directed us where to step to climb up, and I found it a much easier task than I'd first assumed. Carver had a little more difficulty, being the largest out of the three of us and apparently the most clumsy. He continually lost his footing and would curse up a storm, but he gradually made his way up. We helped pull him up the last bit, an action that left all three of us slightly winded.

"I sure hope we find this bloody Knight-Captain soon," Carver grumbled, eyebrows drawn and lips slightly puckered as though he'd taken a bite of something sour. He'd been getting more surly as we went on, the hot weather and rough travel affecting all of us negatively.

I opened my mouth to reply with a snarky comment when we heard shouting in the distance. As if by magic, Isabela disappeared promptly in the direction of the noise, no doubt going to see what she could scout out. Carver and I nodded at each other before moving forward ourselves, as quietly as we could muster. We had managed to just move around the corner when Isabela materialized in front of us, motioning for us to move closer to her. In a low voice, she informed us we had finally found our prey, as well as one of the former missing recruits, Wilmod. We carefully hiked toward the commotion, cresting a small hill that allowed us to see the two men below us in a small cove. We slowed our descent as we noticed the Knight Captain was pacing, becoming more riled up as he spoke to Wilmod. Knowing what was coming, I silently grabbed my bow, noting my companions following my lead. They both cast questioning glances my way, and I waved a hand in Wilmod's direction, whispering one word as they leaned in to hear it: "Possessed."

As if the word was what he was waiting for, Wilmod started laughing maniacally, causing Cullen to pause in his movement, horror dawning on his face as he realized what was about to happen. Wilmod started swelling, his skin becoming a sickly purple pallor, lumps rising up all over his body as he grew in size, whooping with laughter the whole time. We stepped forward as more demons burst forth, the abomination complete, ready to help the Knight Captain in the battle. He drew his sword and shield and charged into the fray without bothering to acknowledge our presence. Carver was quick to join, his large sword cutting down a desire demon almost immediately upon stepping into the mass. Isabela was doing her deadly dance, felling those with a grace I could only envy. I focused on my archery, hoping that I would not be required to make use of the magic currently housed in my veins. With any luck, if there were injuries sustained, we could wait until we were separated from Cullen's presence before I healed them. I wasn't keen on revealing my hand to him before necessary.

Thankfully, the battle turned out to be fairly easy, none of us new to demons. The abomination was the last to fall, chuckling wetly about felling the Templars from within before Cullen lopped off its head, disgust etched upon his every feature. Satisfied, he sheathed his sword before turning to Carver, who placed his own sword upon his back.

"I am Knight Captain Cullen. Thank you for your assistance. The Maker surely sent you." Cullen bowed slightly to Carver, most likely assuming he was the leader of our little brigade. Carver's eyebrows shot up, not used to being treated with such respect. He straightened when Cullen's gaze fell upon him again, inclining his head in response. Isabela was busy in the background, digging through the carnage to see if she could loot anything worth her time. Unlikely, in my opinion; demons weren't renowned for carrying anything of value.

"We were glad to help. Was that... was he an abomination? A Templar?" Carver asked, glancing at the remains of the former recruit.

Cullen turned back to the cove that was littered with parts of abominations and demons, grimacing noticeably at the sight.  "Yes. I knew he was involved in something sinister. But this..." He shook his head slightly, the blonde curls bouncing upon each other at the movement. "Is this even possible?"

"Aren't blood mages able to place demons into unwilling hosts? Could that be what's happening here?" I asked quietly, urging the discussion in the direction it needed to take. I let out a small gasp as Cullen turned to fully face me, eyes widening as I took in his eyes, the color of honey, surrounded by smooth, pale skin. A neatly trimmed goatee outlined his lower face, drawing my attention to a pair of lips that looked entirely too kissable. His blonde hair was curled around itself, making him look as young as I knew him to be, despite his lofty position.

Shit, he was as handsome as I'd figured he'd be, if not more.

A cough drew my attention to Carver, who was frowning deeply, looking between the Knight Captain and myself with an unreadable look on his face. I cleared my throat and gave myself a mental slap to try to get back on target. Cullen had narrowed his eyes at me in suspicion at my question, and as I looked into them I saw the pain and hatred that had implanted itself in him after his torture at Kinloch Hold.

"That is possible, certainly, though I had not thought one of our own would be susceptible. It is a troubling possibility." He strode up the hill to reach my position, towering over me once he stood next to me. "How would you know of such things?"

I shrugged, attempting to be nonchalant. "I've toyed with the idea of joining the Templars. I thought it would be wise to do as much research as possible into mages as well as the Order before making a decision." I heard Carver come up beside me, assuming a position I knew he thought to be threatening. A small touch on my shoulder alerted me to Isabela's presence, as well.

Cullen searched my face a moment longer, his eyes lingering on mine before he pulled back, apparently satisfied with my answer. "A smart choice. If you are as skilled as your friends, we would be glad to have you." He gave me a small smile, causing one to crop up on my face before I realized what had happened. He turned to make his way around us, brushing past Carver without a glance back.

"Wait, ser!" I called out, and he halted in his steps, twisting partially to face me again. I hurried to catch up to him, stopping at his side. He looked down at me quizzically, his honey brown eyes wary. "We were actually out here looking for you. We were asked to look for another recruit, Keran, by his sister. We wanted to see if you had any information."

"Ah, Keran," he said, shaking his head sadly. "Yes, he went missing at the same time as Wilmod. They were both last seen at the Blooming Rose, although I have not had any fortune interrogating the, uh, young ladies there." Pink colored his cheeks as he finished the sentence, dropping his gaze for a moment and rubbing the nape of his neck. "I doubt they know anything of magic or demons, regardless."

"Well, we could give it a go," I offered, and his gaze snapped back up to me again. "If you'd like us to, that is."

A thoughtful look crossed his face as he first regarded me, then slid his eyes over both Carver and Isabela. Nodding slowly, he turned back to me. "Yes, that _could_ work. There was no one willing to speak with me at the brothel, for fear that I would shut them down for serving our recruits. You, however, have no ties to the Order, so there should be no such hesitation. Please, continue on your search for Keran; if you learn what manner of creature is responsible for this, _please_ come tell me in the Gallows." He gave another bow, turning to leave again. He took a few steps before pausing and glancing back over his shoulder to add "I will ensure you are rewarded well for your efforts to help the Order. Maker's blessings upon you." With that, he marched off quickly, leaving the three of us alone again.

"Sooo... The Blooming Rose. You two should be sufficiently familiar with there, huh?" I teased, getting a cheerful laugh out of Isabela and the stink-eye from Carver.

"You could say that, sweet thing," Isabela purred, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "Why don't we go have a look around and see if we can find anything to our liking?" I giggled, feeling the blush rising across my cheeks. I'd never been in a brothel before.

This should be interesting.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blooming Rose, relationship troubles and Carver likes to get himself into trouble.

Awkward.

That’s what I am when you shove me into a brothel, prepared or no. One awkward, fidgeting woman who can’t look anybody straight in the eye.

Isabela had taken one look at my outfit the following day and deemed it “not proper” to wear- at least not if I wanted to even stand a chance at seeming like I meant to go there- and decided to take me shopping. It was alright, for the most part; once you got past the fact that she kept trying to shove me into things that barely covered my private bits. I was very, very thankful for the revamped body I had been given and the fact that I had been forced into taking care of it, because most of the clothing she was pointing at would not have been very flattering on my mom-frame.

In the end, we found a compromise; a pair of obscenely tight black leggings paired with an almost sheer dark red tunic that was so low cut I was surprised my ladies didn’t flop out. There was a considerable gap between the end of the shirt and the beginning of my pants, but she was quick to assure me that it looked great. I wasn’t the biggest fan of the look, but it was a far cry better than anything else she had suggested.

We had agreed to meet Carver outside of The Blooming Rose when the sun was at its highest, and I had butterflies fluttering in my stomach as we approached. Isabela had droned on about how much “puppy will love this!” when she bought it, enough so that apparently I had started to hope that would be the case. After we had arrived back in Kirkwall the day prior, he had left, stomping off toward Lowtown without a single backwards glance in my direction. When my multiple attempts to call out to him had failed, I had decided to trail Isabela back to The Hanged Man, waiting until the other group finished to walk back to the clinic with Anders. My paranoia had worked overtime that night, listing off every possible reason why Carver would dump me the next time he saw me. Despite the attempt, I had managed to shake off the feeling in my gut that something was wrong and cheerfully greet the morning, excited to resume our quest.

So imagine my surprise (as well as my internal monologue screeching I TOLD YOU SO in as high of a pitch as it could manage) when we walked up to where he was leaning against the ivy-covered stone to have him greet Isabela and then turn to walk into the brothel without so much as a glance in my direction. Isabela cocked an eyebrow at me but said nothing, motioning for me to go before her.

Despite my new concerns about my relationship with Carver, I felt my breath hitch in my throat at the beauty of the foyer that I stepped into. That feeling did not change when we stepped through to the main room. High ceilings held delicate crystal chandeliers, each a unique pattern, the light streaming in through large windows causing them to cast small, dancing rainbows across the room. The downstairs area was filled with tables made of rich mahogany, a lush dark brown carpet on the floor. Waitresses bustled around us in an effort to keep those dining happy, and we soon found ourselves directed to the bar where we sat on the spotless wooden stools, staring at the large amount of alcohol before us.

My face was a rather deep shade of crimson by this point, having noticed the abundance of those with a rather distinct lack of clothing. Despite knowing what I was walking into, my awkwardness had kicked in and there was no getting rid of it. Isabela waved a hand at one of the women working the bar, and she approached slowly. They exchanged pleasantries, the woman tipping her head politely at Carver (who turned bright red as his gaze slipped to me for the first time). She gave me a curious look, which was apparently the cue Isabela was looking for.

“Viveka, this is my friend, Caydee. This is her first time, and she’s looking for something very specific. Someone was recommended to her to try. Who was it, sweet thing?”

I bit my lip and let out my breath slowly, trying to calm my racing heart. “Um,” I started, horrified when I realized it was barely a squeak. The woman gave me a pitying smile, and I wanted to bang my head on the bar in front of me. Could I embarrass myself further? Yes, yes I could, so best not to press my luck.

“I can’t remember her name,” I whispered, still apparently too nervous to find my actual voice. I cleared my throat and started again. “But my friend’s brother referred me to her. Keran? If that helps at all? I haven’t seen him recently to ask him again?” I held my breath, hoping the deception would work. Viveka’s eyes narrowed as she considered me, flickering back over to Isabela once before she let out a loud sigh.

“Well, if you’re a friend of Keran…” she said, rummaging underneath the counter to pull out a large, black book. She opened it, flipping casually through a couple of pages before stopping, pursing her lips and using her finger to track the names she read. “Yes, I thought so, but I wanted to be certain. He sees Idunna, The Exotic Wonder of the East. I’m sure she’ll be able to make your first time memorable,” she said with a smirk as she snapped the tome shut, placing it back under the bar. Isabela handed her a couple of coins and she produced a key, motioning toward the stairs. "Room 256, dear. Have fun.” She winked at me, turning back to head to the corner she had been sitting at.

Isabela plucked the key from my fingers, hopping off the stool and heading toward the stairs without waiting to see if we’d follow. Of course we both did, Carver catching up to her far easier than I could. We arrived at her door quicker than I anticipated, Isabela leaning forward to insert the key into the lock. With a quick _click_ , she pushed open the door and we entered.

The room was filled with a heavy perfume, but it did not completely hide the stench of blood. That may have been partially due to the fact that I was expecting to smell it- I remembered this bitch from the games.

So it came as no surprise when she lazily got off the bed and approached us, a wicked smile on her face, light blue eyes flashing dangerously. Her dark auburn hair swirled around her face as though it was enchanted itself. I don’t know what tipped her off, but she must have decided we were not mere clients as I felt my head becoming foggy, and I desperately tried to fight it. Since Isabela had entered first, Idunna concentrated on her mistakenly, getting the answers to her questions while I stood in the back, struggling to flip the switch to absorb the magic instead of be controlled by it.

Boy, did I regret it when it finally happened.

I had never been privy to stealing blood magic before, and the sensation made me certain I never wanted to again. Usually when I absorbed magic, it felt like my blood turned to ice; not an altogether pleasant sensation, but one that could be dealt with. This… this felt like knives. It wasn’t limited to my blood, either; it felt as though they were dancing up and down my entire body, slicing and cutting away at the flesh until I was naught but bone. Pain ricocheted throughout me, and I felt my stomach beginning to curdle. Nonetheless, I was free of her control, and I gritted my teeth to handle the pain, stepping forward haltingly.

“You…will stop…this…right…now,” I ground out, thankful when her eyes snapped to me, widening in fear. She stumbled back in shock, falling to the floor as I approached. I saw the other two were still under her spell, Isabela watching me with pleading eyes as she held a dagger to her own throat. I pulled in a shaky breath before reaching out to touch both of them, pulling the magic that bound them into me. As it all poured in, I let out a harsh cry, my legs buckling underneath me as I turned to retch onto the floor. I felt an arm fold under me, holding me up, while a hand wound itself in my hair to keep it away from my face.

Taking in that much blood magic was definitely not a good idea. I was shaking uncontrollably as pain flooded my body, so much pain it felt like I was dying. My stomach would not stop rolling, and I continued to retch even when it was emptied completely of its contents. Through the pounding in my head I heard Isabela’s voice, and I trusted her to be interrogating Idunna since I was rather incapacitated at the moment. I let out a load moan as the throbbing in my skull increased, well aware of where this was heading. Thankful for the arm underneath me, I at least did not crash to the floor when the world fell black.

~*~

The sun blinded me through my closed eyelids, and I carelessly flung an arm over my eyes to block out the light. As I slowly came to, I was aware of the feeling of thin cloth on my back- a cot? I groaned and slid my arm back off, blinking open my eyes to gaze around me. Yes, I was back in the clinic. I suppose this would be the logical place to bring me after what had happened.

“Caydee!” a concerned voice called out, and I turned to see Anders scurrying toward me, blonde hair sticking up in every direction. “Oh, thank the Maker, when Carver told me what happened, I wasn’t sure what to expect! Blood magic, what were you thinking!? It could have _killed_ you!” He halted in front of me, hands crossed as he glared down at my face.

I shrugged, sitting up and moving my legs to dangle off the side of the cot. “It was either that or let her kill us all and make it look like suicide.” My voice came out as a croak, my throat so dry it was painful. A look of pity flashed across his face, and he hurried off, returning with a glass of water and some elfroot. I gulped down the water before taking the plant and putting a bit in my mouth, chewing to help relieve the pounding in my head. I noticed my body felt more or less normal now, so either the effects of the magic had worn off or Anders had healed it.

“Regardless, please don’t try it again. You didn’t retain any of it, so your body must have some sort of defense system in place that filtered it out. Otherwise, who knows what would have happened.” I waved off the hand he tried to plant on my forehead.

“M’fine, Anders, quit fussing,” I grumbled, rising. “But where are Carver and Isabela?”

He frowned at me, obviously unhappy that I was resisting his doctoring. “They brought you here, gave a hurried explanation and then ran off. Carver was muttering under his breath about killing someone for what happened to you, though,” he said, gazing at the door as though he could see it happening in front of him currently. “But it sounded like the mage responsible for this was turned over to the Templars, so I’m not sure what he meant.” He turned back to me and jumped at seeing the look on my face, concern flitting across his face.

Eyes wide with fear, I ran across the room to pick up my hastily discarded daggers and bow. Pulling the sheath of arrows across my back, I turned to him, panic lacing my every word. “We have to go help them, _now_. Or they will die.” Anders furrowed his brows, opening his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. “NOW, Anders. They cannot do what they’re about to do alone!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a noisy exhale before reaching to grab his staff, moving forward to follow me. “Perhaps we should seek out help if this is dangerous?” he asked hesitantly. “You’re not exactly back to full strength yet.” I chewed on my lip as I ran toward the door, considering. I was about to nix the idea simply because we didn’t have time to leave Darktown when I threw open the door to find Garrett on the other side about to knock. He raised an eyebrow at my harried state (and possibly my clothing; I was still in the cursed outfit I wore to the Blooming Rose), peeking behind me to see Anders following.

Before he had the chance to speak, I marched straight up to him, placing my hands on his shoulders and pulling him down to where I could look him in the eye. “Good timing; you need to come with us if you want to save your brother from an extremely stupid mistake.” He blinked at me, a blank look on his face. I released him and walked around him, halting only when I realized that I didn’t have a true clue as to where we were going. Yes, I knew the entrance to the sick and twisted lair of Tarohne was somewhere here in Darktown, but the area isn’t exactly small. I sucked in a breath, trying to stave off the _what if’s_ that were trying to bombard my brain, turning back around. “Is there a such thing as a spell that can locate someone that doesn’t involve phylacteries?”

Anders and Garrett exchanged a look, the latter stepping forward. “Not a simple one, no. Caydee, what is this about?” he asked, a look of worry on his face. For once his tone was devoid of any condescension, and I bitterly thought it was humorous that it would take something as drastic as this to accomplish that.

“You sent Carver, Isabela and me on that lead to speak with the Knight-Captain yesterday, remember?” Garrett nodded, a finger tapping on his chin as he listened. “That led us to the Blooming Rose to speak with one of their ladies, one the missing recruits had seen last. She tried to turn us into her thralls- and would have been successful had I not absorbed the magic, which is why I am here and not with them. From what it sounds like, Carver decided to go take out his anger about me being knocked out on the head honcho, a blood mage named Tarohne with considerable power. I don’t think he and Isabela are enough to stop her and her cronies alone. She will kill them, or worse, insert a demon into their bodies. We need to help them.” Tears were slipping down my cheeks as I explained, the anxiety coiling in my gut too much for me to hold on to. Garrett’s face had shifted from mild concern to complete alarm during my explanation, and Anders had come around to gently take hold of my hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

“We will find them,” he said softly, looking over at Garrett. “But the spell… it’s hardly pretty. We need to go back into my clinic where we won’t be seen. And… we need something of Carver’s. Garrett, I don’t suppose you…?”

Garrett shook his head, running a hand through his hair and laughing softly. “No, I don’t generally carry something of my brother’s around just in case he gets lost. Though now that I think about it, it might be a good idea.” He frowned, glancing at the path that would take him to Lowtown. “I guess I’ll have to go get something…”

“No,” I interrupted, reaching up to unclasp the necklace I was wearing. It was a simple, thick chain with a small, clear crystal dangling at the end. Carver had taken it off one night after he brought me home from a walk, placing it around my neck. It had been a gift from Bethany, one she had given him before he went to the war- meant to keep him safe. He had given it to me with a small, sad smile on his face, saying I attracted too much trouble and he’d feel better if I had it. Handing it to Anders, I averted my eyes when I saw Garrett gawking at it.

“That’s…he… Bethany?” he stuttered, and out of the corner of my eyes I saw him shaking his head wildly. “He gave that to you?”

“Yes,” I said quietly, still not looking at him. “He said I needed it more than him.”

Anders was turning it over in his hands thoughtfully, pursing his lips as he held up the chain, observing the crystal. Raising a hand, he gestured for us to follow him back into the clinic. Once inside, he shut the door and locked it, walking over to the table in our kitchen. “This kind of magic usually requires blood or a lot of lyrium,” he said slowly, hands flat on the table. “I _think_ we might be able to pull it off without either between all three of us, simply because of Justice. But it may not be the case.”

“We need to try,” Garrett said pleadingly, watching as Anders moved the necklace to the middle of the table. “I don’t care if we use blood magic just this once, I need to find my baby brother!”

“No! No blood magic. Not unless there is no other alternative,” Anders snapped, dragging a hand down his face. “We should not venture down that road.” His voice had dropped to a whisper, and suddenly he looked much older than he was, haggard and beaten-down. I reached out to lay a hand on top of his, and he flashed me a soft smile. “Caydee, I am loathe to ask this of you, but… you seem to be a conduit of a sort for magic. Would you be willing to hold the necklace, and have Garrett and I channel through you? I wonder if you’re body’s natural predilection for siphoning magic could help us in this case.” I nodded quickly, willing and able to try anything within my power. I snatched the trinket back up, clutching it in my hands as though my own life depending on it.

“Okay, Garrett, here’s the spell…” Anders’ voice faded as I focused on trying to regain control of my wild emotions, knowing magic worked best with a calm heart and centered mind. Taking a few slow, deep breaths, I tried to focus on the beating of my heart, usually a simple way for me to zone out. When that failed, I concentrated on my breathing. I was about to give up on that method when I felt hands clap on my shoulders and I tensed, aware the ritual was about to begin.

The men behind me started to chant in low voices, slowly and deliberately. I was unfamiliar with the language of spells, so it all sounded like gibberish to me. I could recall Anders saying chanting was only needed for the most complicated types of magic, which did little to ease my current trepidation. The air around me seemed to thicken as magic started to curl around my body, reaching in and through me to the necklace.

Instead of turning cold, my blood felt like it started to boil, and I felt drops of sweat accumulating and dripping down my body. I could feel a flush form on my face, and I felt stifled in my clothing. The longer the spell went on, the more I felt like I was about to combust. The pads of my hands and the soles of my feet started to burn, like I was walking on hot coals. The eerie sensation of my skin melting right off my bones swept through my entire body, and I suppressed an urge to scream. My head started pounding, and it felt as though I had tossed my brain in flour and was now frying it up for a meal. I felt my body start to sway as my vision decreased, my eyes going blind to the world around me.

Then it stopped, the world going silent and still. All the heat that had built up in my body raced through my veins into my hands before being sucked into the necklace. I stumbled and almost fell from the feeling, reaching out catch myself on the edge of the table at the last minute.

“Did it work?” Garrett’s voice came from behind me, devoid of its usual confidence. I frowned at the necklace dangling from my hand; I wasn’t sure what I had expected it to do, but to simply _dangle_ was certainly not it. Disappointed, I pulled it up into my palm, planning to put it back on and call it a bust. Hopefully we could search out the hideaway in Lowtown before it was too late.

The minute the crystal touched my skin the world spun around me. My mind reeling, I held onto the gem, eyes shut tightly as I rode out whatever was happening. When it felt like I had reached some sort of stability, I reopened my eyes, looking down at my hands. It was the strangest thing; it felt like the trinket was tugging me in a certain direction. I turned, using it like a compass, moving forward when the pulse was the strongest.

Excited, I turned back to the men. “Yes!” I exclaimed, pointing in the direction it was leading me. “It worked. He’s this way!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you... *gasp* hate it? Let me know! I'm always open for reviews, comments and helpful criticism.  
> I'm here to grow. :)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr as StarlingHawke


	14. Carver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short bit from Carver's viewpoint

The world was a haze around him, tinted in a bizarre red. He could not open his eyes further than a slit, some unknown force holding his lids closed. He could feel his limbs were curled into a fetal position, but his muscles refused to obey when he tried to stretch out.

The sounds of muffled talking reached his ears, and he strained to make out the words, but it was an impossible task. He tried to call out, to ask for help, but no sound came; not even a hum, not that it would have mattered much since his mouth refused to open.

Fear flared within him at his helplessness. What could he do? He was stuck, and no one knew where he was- where _they_ were. He wondered if Isabela was stuck in a similar situation, hoping that she had managed to escape whatever fate lay before him. At least Caydee wasn’t with them. He hoped she would recover from the blackout she had earlier- he couldn’t be positive, but it seemed like she had absorbed the blood magic from the whore at the Blooming Rose, and it didn’t sit well. With any luck she would be fine.

He regretted not telling her what had been on his mind for so long. He let petty jealousy dictate his actions the past two days, and now he’d never get the chance. _Bloody fantastic job, Carver_.

Pain sprang up in the center of his brain, blossoming across the entirety of his mind quickly. He flinched mentally, not prepared for the barrage of whispers and prods that worked their way into his consciousness. Promises were made in a slick voice that sounded like oil, and he shivered as he realized what was happening.

A demon was trying to take him over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like giving a small look into Carver's world might fit. If you think it's dumb, let me know.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarohne's special brand of crazy appears

The crystal led us through a few lesser-used parts of Darktown to a concealed passage. It was hidden so well that it probably took us at least half an hour to unearth it, only finding it after Garrett became so frustrated that he brought down a Fist of the Maker, effectively clearing away all the dust, grime and plant life that had grown in the area. It was then we saw the trapdoor, the men dodging forward to pry it open quickly. It revealed a ladder that led into the deeper part of the sewers, letting loose a smell that was absolutely horrid. The three of us exchanged disgusted looks before Garrett sucked in a breath and slid down the ladder. Anders followed suit, but I chose to climb down it; I am not very graceful and the last thing I wanted was to lose my grip only to tumble into the waste below.

The ladder ended on a small walkway that followed a river of human waste as it flowed down a slight incline, a sight I never thought I would see up close. Wrinkling my nose, I slowly turned, holding the necklace out in front of me. It pointed us toward a door that was- of course- on the other side of the passage, and I felt the look of horror that popped up on my face. I lowered myself tentatively into the sewage, relieved to find it was only up to my knees. Well, at least I’d have an excuse to throw these pants away. The other two followed me in and we walked cautiously across the channel, careful not to splash any more of the waste onto each other. I pulled myself up onto the dirt path when we reached it, relieved to be out of the stinky mess- for now, at least. We headed into the indicated tunnel, both men calling up magelights to give us a glow we could see by.

We followed the twisting labyrinth of tunnels in whatever direction the crystal urged me toward until we came upon a heavy iron door. I could feel the aura of magic flowing through it, carrying the same heavy weight and feeling as what I had encountered earlier that day with Idunna, though much, much stronger. One look at the men’s faces told me that they could feel the looming presence as well. Anders’ grip on his staff tightened and Garrett pulled his off his back. I readied my bow before I reached forward to tug at the handle, only to find it locked. Huh, okay, easy enough to remedy. Bending on a knee, I grabbed my lock picks from where they hang on my quiver and made short work of the lock. Satisfied, I replaced the tools, grabbing the handle again. It still didn’t budge.

Anders came up next to me, gently nudging me out of the way. “I think it’s magically sealed,” he said, examining the door closely. “I should be able to dispel it.” He reached into his cloak and pulled out two lyrium potions, tossing one to Garrett who caught it easily. “But before we go in, we should probably try to get our mana back up.” Oh crap, that’s right. They had used most of their mana on the spell to find Carver; I had completely forgotten. Way to bring empty guns to a fight, Caydee.

Potions downed, Anders tucked the empty vials back into his belt. His staff rolled back to be held in place by his elbow as he rubbed his hands together, face contorted in concentration. Moving closer, he wrapped his long fingers around the wood of his staff, tapping the dark green gem on top on the door three times before I felt the _woosh_ of his magic fan out over the metal. The door gave a loud groan and shuddered before opening slowly on its own. Anders stepped through silently, glancing around before beckoning us to follow. I slipped past the still-moving door next, Garrett following closely behind. Once we were all in, Anders raised his staff again and pointed it at the door, which closed with a resounding _thud!_

I flinched as I looked back at the entrance; there was no way that went unheard. A strangled cry beside me prefaced Garrett bolting forward, and I turned around quickly to see what he was reacting too. My eyes widened at the sight in front of me, my mouth working soundlessly to try to call out.

Instead of one large blood-bubble encasing the lost Templar recruit, there were three- and the other two held our friends. Garrett ran past Isabela without hesitating, stopping in front of Carver, face horrified as he reached up to prod the sphere his brother was held in. It shimmered as he touched it, waves distorting the figure within. Carver was unmoving, curled in a ball with a look of intense pain on his face. A quick glance at the other two found them in the same position, agony present in their features, as well. They were all stripped down to their smalls- or naked, in Isabela’s case, seeing as she wears none- and their skin was deathly pale.

“Carver, don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here, brother, I’ll get you out…” Garrett was babbling at the bubble, having forgone the prod of a single finger to have placed both palms on it, moving them back and forth as though he were searching for a weakness. I felt my eyes start to sting as tears gathered behind them, and I bit the inside of my cheek to try to hold in the tempest.

A shrill voice rang out through the room suddenly, causing me to jump and Garrett to spin around, dropping his hands. Anders shifted beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder as a woman approached. “How wonderful, more vessels for our experiments. Perhaps the demons will find one of you suitable.” She was tall and lanky, too thin to be eating even remotely well. Her skin was an alarming shade of white, lips tinged with some light purple color that only made her paleness ever more noticeable. Brown, greasy hair was braided back out of her hazel eyes, her robes shredded and falling apart.

“Always with the demon thing. Can’t you people ever say no?” Anders asked, rubbing at his left temple with two fingers. I knew he absolutely loathed mages like this; they were the reason he had to hide as he did.

“I am not some hopeless waif that ran crying to a demon – I sought them out and embraced them!” She shouted at him, brandishing her staff carelessly in our direction. I felt the shiver of magic pass over me as Anders cast a light barrier over us- it was alarming to have a crazy mage shaking her stick at us, regardless of if she was using it as a conduit or not.

A low growl signaled Garrett’s approach, and he stood next to me, fists clenched and eyes afire. “Why have you taken the recruits? Why have you taken my friend, and my _brother_?” He asked venomously.

She cocked her head and gazed at him curiously, unbothered by his tone. “Demons can inhabit much more than mages and corpses. With assistance, they can control anyone I ask. Any Templar,” she waved her staff at Keran, “any noble… any well-meaning meddler!” A sick grin twisted her features as she gesticulated grandly at both Carver and Isabela as well as us.

Apparently Garrett had heard enough, as he twirled his staff and brought it to the ground, unleashing a large telekinetic burst that sent her flying back. She hit the wall with a sick thud, terrifying laughter falling from her lips as she stood back up. I gaped; such a hit should have knocked her out, bare minimum. Once on her feet, she waved to the door behind her, more people pouring into the room on her signal.

“In days of old, the Tevinter Imperium spanned the known world. Demons were their allies, held in check by power and knowledge.” She let out a feeble cough before glowing briefly, straightening when the light dissipated. She took a confident step toward us, continuing, “With a wave of a hand, I can do more than a Templar can in a lifetime. Yet they command us? Absurd!” The smile came back, increasing in size in a way that seemed to take up her whole face. “ _We_ should be ruling _them!_ _We_ should rule _you all!_ ” She swooped down to pick up her staff from where it had flown out of her hand. “Kill the vessels only if you must!” she cried, bringing it down in front of her and causing the earth to rumble beneath us.

I instantly started nocking and loosing arrows, working to bring down as many of the blood mages from afar that I could, not willing to wade into the large group of people with my daggers alone. They were too powerful, too _crazy_ , and I did not stand a chance without focused healing. There was no possible way to have that, as Anders and Garrett were both busy casting as fast as they could, trying to bring down our enemies before they could fell us.

Magic was filling up the room, and I had to remind myself that it was not safe to absorb it to try to help; at least some of it was blood magic, I could feel that, I could _taste_ it on my tongue. I did not want a repeat of earlier today, unsure if my body could even handle that, so I just continued in my routine, bringing down mage after mage.

I leapt to the side to dodge a fireball, crashing into Anders and knocking us both down. We stared at each other in horror before springing up, but I had touched him long enough to know he was dangerously low on mana- which meant Garrett had to be similar. We had killed a little over half of our foes, which in all fairness was pretty good for our odds- but it was not enough.

I had to do it. I had to figure out a way to rid the blood mages of their magic, or we all would be lost. And it would be my fault for thinking that Carver, Isabela and I could handle it on our own.

“No, Caydee, don’t!” Anders called out from beside me when he saw my face. I stepped further away from him, determined to save them all. I was not an important part in this story- I wasn’t even supposed to _be_ here. They could live on without me, but I could not carry on without them.

My bow clattered to the ground as I raised my arms, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. I reached out to feel the magic flowing through the air, picking my way through the strands until I found one that was actively being cast, the aftertaste of blood on it. I latched onto it mentally, yanking the tendril toward me as hard as I could while trying to keep the flood gates closed. There had to be another way to do this.

I pulled it toward me like I was pulling on a rope, feeling as the strand started to quiver. Still I kept pulling, as it became more taut and difficult to move. Suddenly, there was a loud snap and I stumbled back, dropping it. A loud gasp rang out beside me, and I opened my eyes to see Garrett staring slackjawed at me.

“I have no idea what you just did, but _keep doing it_ ,” he growled at me, as a weak spell flew from his staff. “That mage, he was moving toward you unwillingly-“ He cast another spell, slamming the wood into the ground. “-and then he paled suddenly, falling to the ground like a dried out husk. _All before I finished a single spell_. So _keep doing it!_ ”

I nodded, turning back to the fray. “Anders, can you try to keep me safe?” I asked, relieved when he agreed and moved closer to me.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s working. Just stay alive,” he pleaded before casting a new barrier over us.

I closed my eyes again, this time reaching out more confidently and grabbing onto several strands at once. I wrapped my mind around them firmly, wrenching them back with as much power as I could muster. I could hear the shocked cries from around me and the sound of bodies hitting the floor. Dropping the shriveling lines, I grabbed onto more, yanking and pulling until there was none left.

Swaying a bit, I opened my eyes to see a line of bodies in front of me, piled on top of each other. I paled slightly at the sight, distressed that I had been able to cause so much death in such a short time. There was a loud _pop!_ and the sound of three bodies hitting the floor. I stumbled over to a wall, leaning against it as I watched Carver, Isabela and Keran untangle themselves, each of them letting out moans of varying loudness and length.

“Carver! Thank the Maker!” Garrett cried, scooping up the man into his arms for what looked like a tight hug. Carver yelped before pushing him off, the scowl returning to his face and grumbling about having no personal space.

Anders went over to check on Isabela and Keran, their chatter becoming muted as I slid to the floor, my head falling into my hands.

Killing had never sat particularly well with me; not when I killed the first bandit who tried to rob Anders and me at the Wounded Coast, not when I saved a young girl from being raped by a nasty looking pervert, and not now. You could argue that every person I killed had deserved it for one reason or another, but that did not change the fact that I took _life_ from them. Something I had never intended do. I was a killer, and it horrified me.

Now I was able to kill multiple people, _mages_ , with my mind, just by latching onto their magic and pulling. The specifics were unclear to me, but the truth remained: I was dangerous. Why would my friends want to keep me around now? I could as easily turn this new power on them. Surely I was about to be cast into the world to stagger around it on my own. Anders was a mage, after all, and I was apparently especially adept at killing his kind.

Taking a deep breath, I shoved myself off the ground, determined not to wallow in self-pity while there were people who had _actually_ been through a traumatic event nearby, I strolled forward in time to see Anders cast out three weak beams of magic through the newly freed captives, and nod his head in approval at what he found.

“Well, none of you are possessed. A demon would have tried to protect itself,” Anders said, weariness evident in his tone. Garrett fell back into his natural leadership position, speaking with Keran about what needed to happen- he was planning on being upfront with the Knight-Captain about what had transpired, but assured the recruit that he planned to make it quite clear the Keran was not possessed. Soon enough we were heading back out, thankful that the door Tarohne had entered through had a more direct route to the surface. We came out not too far from the lift to Lowtown, Isabela purposefully wiggling her naked hips more than was needed in front of Keran. The kid could really blush, I’ll give him that.

At the surface, I stepped up to Anders, whispering that I was going to head home and go to bed; it had been a long day, I was tired and going through a bit of an existential crisis. He gave me a quick hug, squeezing tightly before releasing me and waving me off. I scooted around the others, avoiding Carver’s eyes when I was stopped by a hand on my arm.

I turned to see it was Garrett who had reached out. Surprise mixed with resignation crossed my face, not looking forward to the lecture that he had certainly prepared for me. Without any warning, he scooped me into a firm hug.  _Wait...what?_ I stiffened in shock, awkwardly patting his back. “Thank you for helping me save my brother,” he whispered into my ear before letting go. He gave me a small smile, turning back to the group and walking off. I was frozen in my spot, mind still stuttering over the fact that Garrett had just _touched_ me, that he had just shown me something other than contempt. So lost in my shock was I that I didn't notice Carver approach me.

“Thank you,” was all he said as he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on my lips. I blinked a few times before registering that he was there and, in fact, _kissing_ me and not _breaking up_ with me. He pulled away, leaning his forehead against mine as he said, “I’m sorry for how bloody idiotic I’ve been recently. I’d like to come see you tomorrow, if you’ll still have me?” I nodded, which earned me a quick smile and peck to my cheek. He left to rejoin the group, and I watched as they made their way to the lift, half of them still in their smalls. Shaking my head in equal parts of amusement and confusion, I turned to make my way back to the clinic.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, angst, and more angst. You've been warned.
> 
> Buuuut a tiny bit of fluff at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter where Caydee's depression takes over. Hers is strongly based off my own, and keep in mind that not everybody experiences it the same way.
> 
> For the newer people reading this... My chapter updates tend to be sporadic as I have three other WIP's, a ton of one-shots floating through my head and a full-time job and a family. So sometimes I update many in a row in a short time (like I am currently) and sometimes there's a week or so in between. My apologies and please, bear with me. The extra attention this has been receiving recently has kind of reinvigorated my enthusiasm for this fic so we might luck out and keep it going at a faster rate.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

I did not sleep well that night.

Visions of dead bodies haunted my dreams, piling up at alarming speeds in front of me. I would look down and see my hands covered in blood- no, not covered, _soaking,_ dripping- and look back up to see the faces of my family staring at me. Every time I saw my husband, son or daughter looking back at me I would scream until I woke, Anders standing over me with a cool cloth and wearing a worried look. I had taken my sleeping draught, but it obviously wasn’t enough.

A few times I dreamed of us failing, of us arriving to find Tarohne had already implanted the three captives with demons. In those dreams, I’d watch as Isabela morphed into a purple demon, just as naked as before but with a long, spiked tail and horns growing from her head. Carver would flare bright orange before turning into a rage demon, slithering his way across the ground until he stood face-to-face with me. _You failed me,_ he’d hiss in that eerie fade-voice, sneering at me with a burned face I couldn’t recognize. _You don’t deserve happiness._ The Isabela-demon would saunter up and join in the taunts. _You thought you could save us? You thought you were worth something?_ They’d back me into a corner, jeering the whole way. I would cry out for help, but Anders and Garrett just joined in, adding their own jibes to the mix.

 _You killed my brother,_ Garrett would growl, approaching me with magic flaring in his hands. _I knew you would be the end of him._

 _I trusted you_ , would come the sorrow-filled voice of my brother. His eyes would be dead, empty, as he took halting steps in my direction. _I trusted you, and doomed us all_.

I would thrash awake, twisting and turning in my bed, tangled up in my sheets. I heard concerned murmuring above me, a new rag applied to my forehead and the gentle tingle of healing magic creeping through me.

The other dream involved me being ostracized, cast out of Kirkwall to wander Thedas alone because of my power. Anders would no longer look at me, leaving me in tears as he left me alone on the Wounded Coast to go who knows where. That was the least upsetting one, honestly, and usually I stumbled along the roads until my subconscious chose to redirect me into that blasted hideout again to start the process all over.

When I finally woke for good, I was surprised to find a head laying on my chest. Poor Anders must have spent the entire night by my nightmare-ridden side, which really only further increased the guilt I was feeling. He looked peaceful in his sleep, so I stayed there for a while, just letting him snooze on me. It was the least I could do.

Eventually I could no longer stay still, my bladder shouting obscenities at me. I tried to gently slip out from under him, but my movement startled him awake. He sat up quickly, blinking eyes still full of sleep as he gazed at me.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice, stifling a yawn. “You had a rough night, sweetheart.”

I swung my legs to the side of the bed, not meeting his eyes. “I think you had the worse end of the bargain, Anders. I’m sorry. My nightmares shouldn’t have bothered you.” There was a burning sensation forming behind my eyes; fantastic, I really wanted to cry.

“Caydee, dear,” he said in an exasperated tone, and I felt his hand grab my chin, pulling me up to face him. I kept my eyes averted, blinking to try to combat the oncoming storm of tears. “Caydee, look at me, please.” He was speaking in a soft, pleading tone. I sighed, swinging my gaze to his reluctantly. “I’m not mad. You were running a fever all night, so of course I _chose_ to try to help. You didn’t make me do anything. It was my decision to come in here.”

I felt the tears escape, sliding down my cheeks even as I didn’t want them to. “But I don’t deserve it,” I whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t deserve your help. I’m just… I’m a killer.”

He let out a long sigh, reaching forward to fold me into his arms. “Stop this,” he said firmly. “You are no more a killer than the rest of us; you only do so in life or death situations. Last night was just that. We needed to get past them to save our friends, and the Templar. If you hadn’t, we would all be dead.”

“Does that really make it any better?” I asked, shaking my head. “Kill or be killed, or whatever. I’m still the one murdering people. Mages, even. Doesn’t that scare you?”

“Are you… you can’t be serious?” When I didn’t answer, he pulled back, again tilting my chin to look at him. “Caydee, listen to me. You have a great power in you, and I’m not sure we’ve even scratched the surface of what that means. Is that power scary? Yes. Is it frightening that you can somehow kill a blood mage by using their magic against them? You bet. But are _you_ scary? No. I have no fear of you hurting me or anyone we care about. I know _you_ , know what kind of person you are. The only thing I fear from you is when you go all ‘mom-voice’ on me.” He emphasized the last bit, making a face that reminded me all too much of a young child. I chuckled at his theatrics, a smile creeping across my face despite my poor mood.

He gazed at me for a little longer before giving me a tight hug and placing a kiss on my forehead. “You are a wonderful woman, Caydee Pendragon. Never doubt that,” he said, giving me a reassuring smile before he stood up. “Now, I need to get ready; Hawke was planning on us heading out today.”

I laughed as I started to make my way toward the watercloset. “No rest for the wicked, huh?”

“Apparently not,” he answered, winking.

 

~*~

 

It continued to be a rough day. Anders left with Garrett mid-morning, off to do something I didn’t have the energy to care about. Garrett had greeted me when he arrived, and normally I would have probably died from the shock of it, but again- I just didn’t have the energy to care. I lifted a lazy hand in farewell as Anders left, waiting until they were out of the clinic to march back into my room and fall face-first into the mattress.

My depression had been triggered, and I cared not one bit to try to fix it.

I don’t know how long I spent in my bed, letting dark thoughts consume me, considering the many ways in which I failed on a daily basis and was not good enough to be friends with those around me. I wailed as I screamed at myself, tearing at my hair and throwing anything non-breakable within my reach. Eventually the tantrum just led to numbness, and I laid there, still as I stared at the ceiling, devoid of all emotion. My eyes were dry and sore from crying, my lids wanting to drift closed. At one point, I reached over and started the music on my phone, for no reason other than pure stimulation to try to redirect my thoughts.

The shadows shifted on the walls slowly and I felt my stomach rumble, but I did not move. Hunger was not important and I felt no desire to eat. I was tired, exhausted to the point that my bones felt like lead but I was not sleepy.

Normally when I started to fall into a fit, my only friend on Earth would latch onto me and drag me out of it, kicking and screaming. Anders had only been privy to one, and he hadn’t realized what it was when it hit this morning. I’m not good at saving myself; I seem to prefer to just wilt away.

Maybe that’s just the way it is with depression.

I mumbled along less than enthusiastically to a few songs that came on, eyes looking blankly up. The sound of knocking came from the door at the front of the clinic, but I made no move to get it. If it was someone looking for healing, they were shit out of luck anyway with Anders gone. Anyone else could just piss off, I didn’t want company.

The knocking continued, and I continued to ignore it. Eventually the sound stopped, only to be followed within a few moments of the door bursting open and some scattered cursing. I sighed in annoyance, moving my hands to support my head as I remained on my back, assuming that whoever it was would find me eventually. The music would lead them to me.

Hopefully it wasn’t Templars. _Oh well, it’s been a good run_ , I thought to myself as I closed my eyes.

Heavy footsteps plodded in my direction and the curtain was shifted to the side to reveal Carver. _Oh yeah, he wanted to see me today_. I gazed neutrally at him, still as a stone, as he slowly made his way over to me, a confused frown overtaking his face.

“Cay? Are you okay?” he asked, pulling over the rickety chair Anders had sat on the night before. “You look… I dunno, _dead_.”

I shrugged, turning my eyes to look back at the ceiling. He fidgeted beside me, reaching over to place a hand on my cheek and turn my face back to his. “Cay? Did I… did I do something?” His tone was worried, and I could see the fear flashing in his eyes. I shook my head; no, this had nothing to do with him.

“Okay, good, but can you _please_ tell me what’s wrong? You’re scaring me,” he begged, brushing back an errant lock of hair that had slid over his eyes. I cocked my head at him, considering what I would say when the perfect song came on my phone. So I sat up, crossing my legs beneath me and looked him straight in the eye as I lent my voice to the lyrics.

_When the days are cold/And the cards all fold  
And the saints we see/Are all made of gold_

_When your dreams all fail/And the ones we hail  
Are the worst of all/And the blood's run stale_

_I wanna hide the truth/I wanna shelter you  
But with the beast inside/There's nowhere we can hide_

_No matter what we breed/We still are made of greed  
This is my kingdom come/This is my kingdom come_

_When you feel my heat/Look into my eyes  
It's where my demons hide/It's where my demons hide_

_Don't get too close/It's dark inside  
It's where my demons hide/It's where my demons hide_

I shivered as the words passed through me, rending my heart in two. It really would be better for him to walk away now, to not have to put up with my issues. What nineteen-year-old needed this?

His eyes were glued to my face as I sang, concern clouding his expression. His hand still cupped my cheek, and he slowly wiped away tears as they began to fall.

_At the curtains call/It's the last of all  
When the lights fade out/All the sinners crawl_

_So they dug your grave/And the masquerade  
Will come calling out/At the mess you've made_

_Don't wanna let you down/But I am, hell bound  
Though this is all for you/Don't wanna hide the truth_

_No matter what we breed/We still are made of greed  
This is my kingdom come/This is my kingdom come_

_When you feel my heat/Look into my eyes  
It's where my demons hide/It's where my demons hide_

_Don't get too close/It's dark inside  
It's where my demons hide/It's where my demons hide_

I was struggling to continue, emotion thick in my voice. Singing this song- of all the songs I could have picked- to Carver had ripped me out of the emotionless void I had been suspended in all day, forcing me to face the poisonous thoughts snaking through my head.

And despite it all, he still sat there, listening, patiently wiping away the tears as they fell down the cheek his palm was on. His other hand had since reached out to nab mine, and he entwined our fingers, clutching so tight it nearly hurt.

_They say it's what you make/I say it's up to fate  
It's woven in my soul/I need to let you go_

_Your eyes, they shine so bright/I wanna save that light  
I can't escape this now/Unless you show me how_

_When you feel my heat/Look into my eyes  
It's where my demons hide/It's where my demons hide_

_Don't get too close/It's dark inside  
It's where my demons hide/It's where my demons hide_

I let my head drop down, sobs wracking my body at this point. “You would really be better off without me,” I whispered, biting down on my lower lip to still the tide of words that wanted to follow that sentence out.

“ _No rudding way_.” I blinked dumbly at the finality in his tone when he launched off the chair and scooped me up into his arms, pulling me into his lap as he took my spot on the bed. “Look, I don’t know what’s bothering you- since you won’t just _tell_ me- but I’m not going bloody anywhere. Not after… not after what happened yesterday.” His voice wavered as he tightened his arms around me, squeezing me into his chest and causing me to let out a surprised puff of air.

“Carver,” I started, voice cracking. “I’m _dangerous_ is what’s wrong. You didn’t see what I did yesterday. I killed a ton of mages without so much as waving my hand. _That’s wrong_. _I’m_ wrong _._ And then you…you and Isabela were there, and what if I _hadn’t_ made it in time? I almost _failed_ you… because I’m a failure, and I shouldn't be here. I always fuck shit up and I somehow made you mad at me and I don’t deserve you…” I was full on babbling at this point, unable to shut up once I had opened the flood gates. I could feel my nose start to run and the hiccups around the corner, ready to make their entrance at any moment. My hair was wild and my makeup running down my face, so I was quite the sight to behold.

“Andraste’s asscheeks, stop it!” he snapped, silencing me momentarily. I sat up and stared at him, my mouth set in a grim line as I glared at him. He wanted to know what was wrong, so I tell him, and this is how he responds?

“Seriously, stop it, Cay. You’re none of those things. And who _fucking_ _cares_ who deserves who, all that matters is that I lo-” He froze, eyes wide as he looked at me like a deer in headlights. My mouth had gone dry as I hung on the edge of that last word, wanting to know if it was what I thought it was but scared that it wouldn’t be. A small sob escaped me and I trembled, another tear dripping forlornly down my cheek. His expression softened and he reached out to gently wipe it away with his forefinger. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before whispering, “I… I love you, Caydee.”

I sucked in a breath, staring at him in shock. “You… you do?” I asked, my voice quivering as I searched his face for any sort of dishonestly.

“Yes,” he whispered, his hand gently caressing my cheek. “And I’m sorry for being an ass the past few days. I got jealous of- of how you looked at the bloody Knight-Captain, and how you flirted with Bela. I was insecure and I let it get to me. Being in the bubble,” he let out an involuntary shudder that traveled down his whole body, eyes closing, pain flitting across his face quickly before he let out a shaky breath and looked back at me. “I thought I was dead for sure. It… it made me think on some things, like our relationship, and how I had cocked it up. I regretted not having told you how I felt, earlier.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry.”

I sniffed, a smile tugging at the side of my lips. “You… you big doofus,” I hiccuped, chuckling even as a few tears continued their journey down my cheeks. “Yes, Cullen is cute and Isabela is fun, but I don’t want them. I want _you_.” I angled my face up to plant a small kiss at the side of his lips, letting out a huff of laughter when he chased it. “And for the record…  I love you, too.”

He jerked back, staring down at me incredulously. Slowly, an amazed smile spread across his face, his eyes lighting up. Pulling me back into his tight embrace, he sat his chin on my forehead, humming a tune I wasn’t familiar with. I felt warmth spreading down my body as he rocked us back and forth. I knew I wasn’t out of the woods yet, but this was a good, firm step in the right direction.

“Have you ever heard of depression?” I murmured after we had stayed like that for a while and his humming had drifted off to silence. I felt him shake his head, and I bit my lip, mind going a hundred miles an hour as I tried to think of the best way to explain it. “It… it is the cause of my… mood… today, and I think I owe it to you to warn you what it can mean.” I rearranged myself in his lap so that I could lay my head onto his shoulder, shivering as he toyed with my hair.

I did my best to explain the intricacies of the mental illness, topped with an unhealthy dose of anxiety. When I finished, he was quiet for a bit before placing a finger under my chin and pulling my face to look at him. The pure affection laid out bare in his eyes was nearly enough to be my undoing.

“I promise you this, Caydee Pendragon, that you’ll never have to face such a demon alone again,” he solemnly stated before leaning forward to touch his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, smiling even as he pressed closer, his hands on my hips.

“Thank you, Carver."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you feel it? We are almost to the deep roads!!! Is Carver going? Is he staying? What will happen to him and Caydee? 
> 
> *flees*
> 
> Song is Demons by Imagine Dragons and it's a faaaaav of mine!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A picnic between Caydee and Carver escalates into something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hums along innocently, whistling and casually flipping the rating up*
> 
> So, uh, yeah, this chapter is DEFINITELY NSFW. There's fluff at the forefront and at the end, but sandwiched in there is some smut. Soooo, if that's not your cup of tea, just skip right past it. Nothing important will be missed by skipping this chapter that you can't figure out easily later.

 I was a nervous wreck, fidgeting in the corner of Varric’s main room at The Hanged Man as details were finalized for the trip to the Deep Roads. The maps were spread across the large table in the center of the room, Anders pointing out viable routes to Garrett and the dwarf. Varric was busy making notations of what to speak with Bartrand about, while Garrett was debating who to bring with him. Anders had already pleaded for me to stay behind, and for once, I was disinclined to argue with him.

The deep roads were no place for the likes of me.

They hadn’t fully decided who else was going to accompany them, and I found myself praying that Carver would be left behind. I very well _knew_ what happened if he went, and I had no intention of losing him to the Grey Wardens. The Templars I could deal with; he’d still be in Kirkwall and we could hopefully see each other whenever he had a rest day. I knew Garrett was dithering on what to do with his little brother, just as I knew Carver was trying to persuade him to let him go. I just hoped Garrett would let his overprotective side ring true and leave his brother behind.

Anders was lobbying for at least one person to remain in Kirkwall so that I wouldn’t be alone, but I wasn’t sure how realistic that was. It would be better if they all went, simply to make it easier and hopefully reduce the chance of anyone contracting the Blight. This wasn’t the game, after all, where one was forced to choose a team of four people.

I jumped when a hand slid around my waist, pulling me into Carver’s side as he leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Come with me. I have something I want to show you.” I turned to smile up at him, basking in the happiness I felt when we were together. His blue eyes were warm and crinkled slightly at the edges as he held back the grin I could see trying to sneak past his mask of indifference. Standing on my tiptoes, I planted a soft kiss on his lips, ignoring the loud whistle that broke through the room at the action.

“Sod off, Bela,” he grumbled, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the door. I gave a tiny wave to Anders when I caught his eye, and he lifted a hand from the table in response.

I allowed myself to be led through the tavern and out the door, Carver pulling me toward the stairs to Hightown. People were milling about, the late afternoon sun bearing down upon everyone. I was happy to have pulled my hair back into a ponytail, keeping as much of it off me as possible and eliminating some of the heat it would cause. We wove through the crowd easily; he was large enough to basically be a human battering ram, and all I had to do was follow in his wake. Oh, the advantages to having a tall, broad-shouldered, sour-faced boyfriend; I was half-convinced people were moving out of the way just to avoid him in general.

At the top he turned in the direction of Fenris’ mansion, and I cocked my head in thought as we approached the dilapidated building. I had never been inside the real thing, but I was a bit wary of what we’d find inside, considering the state it had been in whenever I ventured there in the games. Letting go of my hand, Carver strode up confidently to the door, knocking thrice before stepping back and waiting.

Fenris had not been at The Hanged Man with the rest of the group, and it became apparent why when he cracked open the door, peering out at us suspiciously. “Hawke,” he greeted as he moved out of the way to allow us entry, causing Carver to grumble at the use of his surname. The air inside the mansion carried the scent of cleaning, and the dead bodies were neatly piled up in the entryway. Fenris was covered in a thin coat of dirt and sweat, his olive complexion darkened further by a flush from exertion.

“So uh…cleaning, then?” I asked, looking around in surprise. Of all the things I had been expecting to see today, this had not even been close to making the list.

He cocked an eyebrow and looked at me, face blank. “Obviously,” was all he said in response before firmly shutting the door. He pivoted quickly, walking away from us, directing only a short sentence at Carver over his shoulder: “The way to the garden is clear.”

Carver grunted his thanks, hands grasping onto my shoulders as he maneuvered me in front of him. We passed a large room filled with books, clutter filling the tables and chairs. Not a room Fenris had deigned to clean, then- at least, not yet. A tiny voice in the back of mind reminded me that he probably didn’t know how to read, so of course a library would not be remotely important to him. Further down the hallway we passed what could only be the kitchen, devoid of dust and looking very neat. At the end, there were two large doors, designed specifically to allow view of the garden beyond- and oh, what a garden it was.

We stepped out into a sea of green, with trees, shrubs and flowers blooming all around. There was a water fountain in the middle, elegant in design but not overstated. I looked around in awe, amazed at how well-kept it appeared. Next to the doors a bench sat under a wooden arch that was covered in ivy, a litt box set upon it. Carver reached over and grabbed it, gesturing for me to follow him. We moved through the garden on a narrow stone path until we came upon a small clearing with a blanket spread on the ground. A picnic basket was sat in the middle, a bottle of wine to the side. A smile crept over my face as I took in the scene in front of me, Carver moving to set the box on the blanket. A bush immediately behind him caught my eye, and I moved over to it, reaching out a gentle finger to touch the soft white petals of the rose.

“Thought you might like that,” came his low voice behind me as he wrapped strong arms around my waist, his chin resting on my head. “We brought it here specifically for you.”

I furrowed my brows at the confession, dropping my hand to turn and look up at him. “What do you mean that you ‘brought it here for me’?” I asked, gazing up at him in confusion.

He smiled, moving one hand from my hip to cup my cheek. “The garden was dead when Fenris took back the mansion. Merrill and I have been spending time trying to bring it back to life,” he answered honestly, reaching up brush back a piece of his hair. He blushed slightly, lowering his head as he continued, “I, uh. I used to like helping Mother in her garden in Lothering. Might’ve missed it a little. And I knew those were your favorite.” His embarrassment shone through him like a beacon at his admission.

Beaming, I turned my face to plant a soft kiss to his palm. “You did a wonderful job, Carver. This place is beautiful.” It really, truly was. The flowers were all blooming, bright and happy in the garden. I lacked a green thumb, so I had never been able to accomplish anything as amazing as what he and Merrill had.

He looked back at me, a relieved grin blooming on his lips. He dropped his hand from my cheek, reaching out behind me. I heard the soft _snap_ of a stem, followed by him pulling forth a rose from the bush and tucking it behind my ear. The petals tickled my skin slightly as they drew across my face, his hand tracing the shape of my jaw before landing under my chin, drawing my face up to meet his for a gentle kiss.

Stepping back, he motioned for us to sit on the blanket. The sun had lowered a bit in the sky, the bright rays of the afternoon dimming slightly, casting shadows through the trees around us. He settled down on the ground first, and I followed, situating myself between his legs and leaning my head back against his chest. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of my forehead as he reached around to pull the basket closer.

“I thought we deserved a quiet picnic before everything goes to the void,” he said, flipping the lid of the basket up. I peered inside to find a large assortment of pastries, causing me to start laughing. “What?” he asked, peeking at me while desperately trying to tamp down the smile threatening to curve his lips. “You like pastries, I like pastries, it’s win-win.”

His child-like justification only caused my mirth to increase, my eyes watering from how hard I was laughing. I looked up at him to see the smug look on his face, giving him a playful smack on the cheek as I reigned myself in. “You are incorrigible,” I huffed, grabbing one of the sugary pies on top. “An absolute goofball, king of all goofs.” Biting into the soft tart, I sighed appreciatively as the flavor of sweetberries hit my tongue.

He laughed behind me, reaching forward to grab one as well. We sat quietly for a few moments, comfortable, the only noises between us that of our chewing. “Oh, shit,” he said suddenly, starting to move away from me. I turned to look up at him questioningly, and he flashed me an apologetic smile. “I forgot to bring something for us to drink out of.”

“And you think Fenris will have mugs? Unlikely. Just sit back down, we can drink out of the bottle. I have no problem sharing with you,” I said, raising an eyebrow at him. He paused in his movements, halfway to his feet by this point, gazing at the offending wine with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Yeah, I ‘spose that’d work, too,” he finally conceded, plopping back down to the ground and scooting up behind me again. He reached forward to grab the bottle, pulling out a small knife to pry the cork off. Tipping it up, he took a swig of the drink before passing it to me, one large hand wiping the lingering liquid off his lips.

The sound of the door opening startled us and I froze, wine halfway to my mouth. A shock of white hair was barely visible through the greenery as Fenris called out, “Hawke? Caydee?”

“Here!” I yelled, lowering the jug as I saw him make his way toward us. He came to a stop a few paces away, tilting his head as he took in the scene before him.

“I am leaving to join with the planning of the expedition,” he said slowly, a finger tapping between the two white lines on his chin. “I do not mind if you two are to remain here, but be warned that I may not return for quite a while.” Inclining his head in farewell, he turned and padded back inside, shutting the door before either of us had the chance to respond.

“Okay then,” I said, finally taking a drink of the wine. It was a sweet white, the only kind I generally enjoy. Suspicious, I turned to him. “How did you know what kind of wine I like?” I queried, narrowing my eyes playfully.

He chuckled, tapping a finger to my nose. “By paying attention, that’s how,” he responded, handing me another pastry.

I took it and aggressively bit into it, waggling my eyebrows at him. “Oh, paying attention. Is that what they call it now?”

I was rewarded with a deep, throaty laugh, his chest vibrating against my shoulder as he finished up the cake in his hands. Leaning forward, he gently bit the shell of my ear, causing me to shudder at the sensation. He nibbled the rest of the way down, pressing kisses on my jaw until he reached the side of my lips, planting a light peck on my mouth. Pulling back, he smirked when he saw my widened eyes and slightly flushed skin. “I always _pay attention_ to you,” he murmured, his voice noticeably more husky than it had been only a few moments prior.

That _tease_. Okay, two can play this game. I took another gulp of the wine, purposefully dragging my tongue across my lips to gather the little droplets left behind. He inhaled sharply at the action, his eyes following the movement closely. Lightly picking up one of his hands, I brought it up to my mouth slowly, licking off the crumbs and jam that had stuck to his fingers, sucking gently on the ends and flicking my tongue against them. I felt the shiver than ran through his body at the action, heard his breath sawing in and out of him.

I dropped his hand, it falling limply to his side. I could see the tautness of his muscles as he struggled to remain where he was seated, and I traced the edges of his flexing bicep as he clenched his hands. The air was thick, charged with electricity between us, and I swore I could feel whatever resolve he had shattering. I shifted so that I was facing him fully, sitting back on my heels. I pulled my lower lip between my teeth as I took in his flushed face and darkened eyes, his chest heaving as he stared at me. “Carver,” I whispered, my own breath quickening.

With a low moan he surged forward, lips crashing hard against mine, one hand winding around my waist and the other around my neck pulling me closer to him. Teeth nibbled at my lower lip, so I parted my mouth, his tongue thrusting inside immediately. The kiss steadily became more heated, teeth and tongue working together. One of my hands slid up to tangle in his hair, relishing how the soft black locks felt against my skin. He sighed into my mouth when I tugged gently, the kiss becoming more desperate and tinged with need. I climbed onto his lap, my legs straddling his hips and pressing myself flush against his chest. I could feel his hardened length beneath me, and I rubbed against it, groaning at the pleasure coursing through my veins. I felt a tug as he released my hair from its tie, my auburn tresses falling to surround our faces. He entwined his fingers into a few of the strands, roughly pulling my head back, revealing my neck.

Open-mouthed kisses were pressed against the line from my jaw to my shoulder, hot breath fanning over my skin as he moved down to my collarbone. The hand around my waist slipped under the tunic I was wearing, his calloused palm setting the nerve endings on fire on my back. I shivered when he bit at my pulse point, licking at the sore spot to soothe the reddened skin.

I was panting heavily by this point, squirming in his grasp as heat pooled in my belly, a primal urge rising up inside of me. Moving my hips, I ground down against his erection fervently, chasing the sensations blooming across my lower regions. He moaned, thrusting up, bringing his head back up for a hungry kiss.

Breaking away, he grabbed the edges of my tunic, yanking it up and over my head. His followed immediately thereafter as we mashed back together, hot skin on hot skin, devouring each other. The air felt cool against my fevered skin, contrasting pleasantly to the man I was pressed up against. I felt his fingers pry at the back of my breastband, attempting to undo the complicated wrap withholding my breasts from him. “Just…rip it,” I gasped against his mouth, arching into him when he thrust up again. His hands paused for a moment before enthusiastically complying, and I heard the sharp _rip_ of fabric, felt the linen fall slack under my arms. Drawing back, I grabbed the hanging cloth and tossed it over my shoulder, throwing my head to face the darkening sky when a mouth descended upon one of my nipples. A clever tongue sucked and nipped at the peaked bud, a hand snaking up to flick and tease the other. Re-entangling my fingers in his hair, I arched into his mouth as he twirled his tongue around the sensitive peak, shivers cascading down my body. “Carver,” I moaned, heat building at my core. He pulled back enough to switch to the other nipple, giving it the same attention he had the first, rough fingers tugging and pinching the other. His mouth was a wet, hot cavern around my bud, consuming me eagerly.

Hands wound around my back as he shifted, mouth returning to mine as he moved to stand on his knees. I tightened my legs around his waist, arms clenching around his neck as he leaned forward, lowering me to the ground. Now underneath him, I slid my fingers down his back, nails dragging along skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He groaned, thrusting down against me in response, and I slammed my head against the blanket, biting back a moan of my own. I hooked my fingers in the waistband of his leggings, pushing them down a bit before they caught on his hips. He let out a huff of laughter and pulled back to lean on his elbow, reaching down between us to untie the front. I took the opportunity to do the same, wiggling out of the pants as he shook his own off.

He sat back on his heels and looked at me, smalls barely managing to keep a straining erection in check, a visible shudder passing through his body. Eyes blown wide with lust, he leaned over slightly to run a finger down the planes of my stomach and over my smalls, continuing between my legs. I squirmed at the feeling, thrusting up slightly into his palm. The action drew a moan from his lips, and he looked back up at me through half-lidded eyes. “You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, voice rough and tinged with a neediness I had not heard from him before. He cupped my mound, giving it a gentle squeeze, eliciting a soft squeak from me.

“Oh, Caydee,” he groaned, eyes fluttering closed as he slipped a finger under my smalls, drawing it down my slit before dipping inside.

“Aimee,” I gasped, arching into the feeling. He stilled, blinking open confused eyes to look at me, withdrawing the finger.

“What?” he asked, a frown appearing on his face.

“Aimee,” I reiterated, voice steadier this time. “That was my name, before. Aimee. I just… I wanted you to know that.” I felt a flush creeping up across my features, slightly embarrassed at having chosen to reveal that tidbit of information in that moment.

“…Aimee,” he said slowly, rolling it around in his mouth. I shivered at hearing my earthen name said in the low, rough tone, the fires in me burning even higher. He cocked an eyebrow at me, not having missed the reaction. Slowly, he inserted his finger again, a wicked smile on his face. He added a second, pumping slowly, his thumb reaching up to rub against my clit. Leaning down, he whispered into my ear, hot breath puffing on my neck: “I'm going to make you come for me, Aimee.” 

He withdrew his fingers and grabbed the waistband of my smalls, pulling them down. I lifted my hips to make it easier, the smooth fabric sliding past my legs to be tossed aside. Kisses fluttered down my chest, a light lick and suckle being placed upon each of my nipples as he moved down, further, further, further until he nipped at my hips. He looked back up at me, making eye contact as his tongue snaked out to flick my swollen bud. I gasped, hands grabbing fistfulls of the blanket beneath me. Fingers were reinserted, curving to drag along my walls to pass over the sweet spot inside. I found it hard to remain still, to not rub all over his face as the pleasure ricocheted throughout every corner of my body. A growl vibrated from his lips as he latched onto my clit and gave a final hard suck.

Stars exploded before my eyes as I arched into him, wailing his name as the orgasm crashed over me. He continued his ministrations, working to draw every last ounce of pleasure from me, leaving me a gasping, breathless, writhing mess. He withdrew his hand, bringing it up to mouth to suck off the juices there. I watched, open mouthed, as he licked himself off, biting my lip when he let out a long moan.

I sat up abruptly, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him to the ground. He blinked as he let me, eyes so full of desire they were nearly black. Sliding down his body, I grabbed his smalls, slipping them off his legs, letting his hardened cock spring free. Leaning forward, I licked a broad stripe from the base to the head, rewarded by the sound of his head hitting the ground followed by a loud groan. Wrapping one hand around his shaft, I descended upon him, devouring him hungrily. Licking and twisting and suckling, I hummed as he undulated beneath me, his breaths ragged.

Hands tangled in my hair, gently pulling me up. I released him with a _pop!_ , looking at him in confusion. I had really only just started, and I wanted to continue.

“Can’t… not how I want to…nhng” he choked out, maneuvering my face up to his to place a needy kiss upon my lips. I submitted to it, laying on top of him, his hard shaft trapped between us. He wrapped an arm around my back, rolling us over so that I was on the bottom again. Never breaking the kiss, he got back up on his elbows, rocking his hips so that he rubbed against me. The desire within me only increased, and I squirmed against the feeling, trying to angle myself so that his next thrust would enter me. A rough laugh fell from his lips. “Impatient,” he rasped, pressing kisses along my jaw. I gasped when I felt lips latch back around one of my nipples, letting my hands scratch down his back once more.

He shifted over me, thrusting into me in one smooth motion. My hands scrabbled at his back as I let out a small cry, eyes closing as pain speared through my body. He stilled, pulling back to search my face. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, voice brimming with worry. The back of his hand brushed against my cheek, and I opened my eyes, giving him a weak smile. I had forgotten that this body was yet a virgin, but it was fine. I shook my head, sitting up slightly to give him a kiss. I rolled my hips against his to encourage him to move; a message he received.

He started out slowly, drawing out and thrusting back in, propped up on his elbows while he planted kisses all over my face. I could feel the heat building within me again, and I rocked my hips up to meet his. His kisses stilled as he let out a long moan, pulling out to plunge in deeper than before. I nipped at his lower lip, rewarded when he crashed back into me, kiss filled with need. He drove his length in and out of me over and over again with increasing speed, each thrust causing pleasure to coil tighter and tighter in my core. I could feel myself approaching the precipice again, every move drawing me closer.

“Hng, Carver,” I whined, dropping my head to the ground. “Fuuuck, C-Carver, nhgn… p-please…” I was begging, but I wasn’t sure why or what for. A hand dipped between our sweat-soaked chests, a finger rubbing at the still-swollen nub between my legs. It took only two circles of it before my world flashed white and I was falling over the edge again, hands grasping to find purchase on his back. Again I wailed his name, only this time it was followed by a low moan from him before he joined me in ecstasy. He stuttered out my name (well, both of them) as he came, head tilted back and mouth open in a look of pure bliss.

He continued to thrust languidly, milking every last ounce of pleasure he could from our orgasms before collapsing on me, held up by one elbow. Panting, he slid out of me, lowering himself onto the blanket to my side. I rolled over, snuggling up to his side. He chuckled, placing a kiss on my forehead and wrapping an arm around me, pulling me closer. “Not exactly the quiet picnic I had in mind,” he joked, one hand combing through my hair.

I let out a guffaw, swinging a leg over him. “Quiet, no. Definitely not.”

“Yeah, you’re uh… rather loud.”

I snorted, pushing up to look at him. “Do you have a problem with that?” I teased, smirking.

He shook his head, bright smile plastered on his face. “Nope. Not at all.” He reached up to cup my face, pulling me down to plant a soft kiss upon my lips. When we broke apart, I settled next to him again, head resting on his chest just listening to his heart beat.

Gradually he rustled slightly, and I felt him reach over me to grab something from behind us. As he pulled his hand back, I saw he had the box from earlier in his palm. He held it out to me, and I sat up, taking it from him curiously. “For me?” I asked, feeling the smile tugging at my lips as I observed it. It was small, small enough for me to wrap my hand around, and rectangular.

He nodded, reaching a hand up to brush back some of my hair that had fallen in my face. “Open it,” he ordered firmly, and I wasted no time digging in. I love presents; who doesn’t?

Removing the lid revealed a thin silver chain with a small teardrop-shaped gem at the bottom. Pulling it out, I let it dangle over me, the beautiful color of the opal (or at least, that’s what I equated it to) shimmering in the few remaining rays of daylight. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered reverently, gazing at it in awe. He shifted beside me, reaching out to take it. I let him remove it from my grasp, gathering up my hair to allow him to place it around my neck and fasten it.

“I saw it and thought of you,” he murmured, placing light kisses on my shoulders when completed. “Since the other necklace has… unique abilities now, and all. I wanted you to have something to remember me by when I go to the Deep Roads.”

Oh. Shit.

I flipped around, planting a firm kiss on his lips. “Why would I need to remember you when you will return to me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

He let out a shaky laugh, a hand reaching up to rub at the back of his head. “Well, who knows how long I’ll be down there…” he trailed off, giving me a weak smile.

I let out a hard breath, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “So it’s been decided? You’re going, then?” He inclined his head in agreement, and I felt the bubble of happiness inside burst. _No, no, NO!_ I knew what would happen to him down there; I couldn’t let that be his fate. Was that selfish of me? Maybe, but it was a death sentence sending him to the Deep Roads, Wardens or no.

He seemed to sense my inner turmoil and reached out to me, wrapping me into one of his tight hugs. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered, stroking my hair gently. “Garrett and I, we have to do this.” I blinked back the tears I felt forming, nodding against his chest. I understood; really, I did. I didn’t like it, but then again, that is life.

“I have just one request before you leave,” I said, voice thick with emotion even as I struggled to tamp it down. He paused in his movements, waiting for me to continue. “When we get back to the clinic, I want to take a picture of us. Just to have, you know, a _permanent_ reminder of our time before such a big…big adventure,” I ended lamely. It was likely to be the last picture I ever had the chance to take with him, but he didn’t need to know that. I felt his nod, and I burrowed against him.

“Cay,” he said softly, a hand trailing lightly across my arm. “We should get dressed before Fenris comes back.”

Oh! Yeah, that’d be good. I let out a small laugh, pulling back to place another kiss on his lips before reaching for my clothes.

The day I’d been dreading was finally arriving, and I was terrified to face it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussions of who goes to the deep roads and who stays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Anders' perspective

A large pair of hands slammed down on the table, the wood shuddering and groaning under the assault. "For the last time, Anders, we need you with us!" Garrett ground out between clenched teeth, glaring daggers at the blonde mage standing next to him. "I will not leave you behind."

Anders shrugged, arms folded across his chest as he stared at the ceiling in irritation. "You can't force me to go with you, Hawke," he said, tone deceptively light. In truth, he felt anything but light; he was worried, frustrated and frightened about everything. He had no desire to return to the Deep Roads, but he would have went for no other reason than to keep his friends safe. All he asked was for one member of their party to stay behind to keep an eye on his sister.

"Blondie, you do know that you're the only reason we're able to actually mount this expedition, right? And the only healer we have access to?" Varric asked him cautiously. He responded with a snort, eyes still trained on the rafters above them. 

"I will not leave Caydee alone to fend for herself," he repeated for what felt like the twentieth time. Nobody understood why he was so vehement about it, and that was fine. He had attempted to explain in vague terms several times to no avail. 

"She can take care of herself, you know," came the annoyed voice of Carver. Anders couldn't stop the long-suffering sigh that escaped him at the imbecilic statement: _of course_ he knew that. Her battle techniques had only improved under the tutelage of Isabela, and any mage who dared to approach her maliciously would quickly find she was more dangerous to their health than the other way around. Her ability to defend herself wasn't what he was truly concerned about.

"And you're having her stay in Fenris' mansion with a full kitchen so that she won't have to beg for food, and to be in a safer part of Kirkwall," Varric gently reminded him. "She may be a little lonely, but I think Starling is tough enough to handle missing you and Junior." There was a murmur of agreement around the table.

" _Andraste's knickerweasles_ , that's not what I'm concerned about!" He thrust his hands into the air in frustration. They just did not _get_ it. "First and foremost, there is her illness to consider. I don't know how she'll function completely alone, and that worries me. Secondly, what if the Templars find out about her abilities? Best case scenario is that they'll chain her and make her do their dirty work for them, finding and killing mages. Worst case? They'll kill her or make her tranquil."

"Can they do that? Make her tranquil, I mean." Carver spoke up, and Anders shifted his eyes to him, noting the look of pained worry he found on the young man's face. "She's not exactly a mage."

"But she has a strong connection to the fade, da'len," Merrill countered quietly, her voice devoid of its usual cheerfulness. "That is the connection Templars sever, and it would affect her all the same."

"Bloody void," Carver muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

"And so, I will not leave her alone," Anders continued, turning back to Garrett. "If that means I have to stay, so be it."

Garrett was rubbing his temples with a slightly defeated look on his face. "You wouldn't be any use against Templars, Anders," he responded, weariness evident in his demeanor. "A non-mage should stay with her." Dropping his hands resignedly, he turned to his brother, who visibly stiffened at the movement. "Carver, this is just another reason that you should remain behind."

Carver's face immediately became a visage of barely contained wrath, hands clenching at his side. "For fuck's sake, Garrett! How many sodding times do we have to do this? _I am coming with you_ ," he spat out, venom in every syllable. "This is for my family too, and she knows that. Let someone else play babysitter."

"So you don't care if Caydee is made tranquil, then?" Garrett goaded. A loud groan escaped Anders, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, reaching for patience. He- as well as everyone else- knew that Garrett had wanted to leave his brother behind, had wanted to pull the same card that Anders had. Unlike Caydee, who had readily agreed to remaining in Kirkwall, Carver had been fighting tooth and nail to come along since the topic had been broached. Garrett had tried all sorts of manipulation and logic- in that order-to convince him to stay, nothing working. Now he was going to try to use her as leverage.

"I don't- that's not what I said," Carver snapped, his anger faltering for a second. "Of bloody course I care. But this is something I need to do, and she understands. She's okay with it."

"Are you sure about that?" Anders asked softly, scratching at his neck. Carver swung his gaze over to him, confusion rolling in his blue eyes. "Because I don't think she is."

"Of course she is, she told me. Why would she lie?" Carver asked, bristling when everyone in the room shifted awkwardly. "What? Why's everybody looking at me like that?" 

Aveline let out a long sigh, fingers toying with her mug of ale while looking at him with pitying eyes. "Carver, I don't know a single person who would be fine with sending the person they love off to the Deep Roads. She's just telling you that so you feel better."

Isabela gave a loud snort. "I'm sure she did other things to make you feel better too, still doesn't mean she has to like you leaving." Anders watched in fascination as Carver turned a most interesting shade of red, sputtering at the implications of Isabela's sentence. "Oh, don't act all innocent, puppy, everyone already knows that you two rutted." His skin darkened further, and he placed his hands over his face, groaning. Garrett coughed, staring at his brother with wide eyes. "Well, almost everyone," Isabela amended belatedly, gazing at her friend with amusement.

"Hawke, you can't honestly tell me that you thought those two were spending all that time together and _not_ having sex?" Varric asked, mirth twinkling in his eyes. "It was pretty easy to pinpoint when it happened, Junior was actually _happy_."

"Can... can we _stop_ talking about this?" Carver whined from behind his hands. "I'm sure we have more important things to discuss."

Anders smirked. "Important, yes, Fascinating... not sure about that one."

"I think I would like to direct the conversation away from my little brother's love life as well, actually," Garrett said, rubbing his forehead slowly. "That's not something I'm inclined to wish to hear about." He let out a long breath before looking at his brother again. "Carver, you're staying. That's my final decision."

Carver's hands snapped back down to his side and he turned to Garrett, stomping forward to place a finger in the shorter man's chest. " _Fucking make me_ ," he snarled, lips pulled back from his teeth as his face twisted in anger.

"Oh for... Discontinue this nonsense. I will remain in Kirkwall to be at her side," came a deep voice from the corner. Fenris stood up from the chair he had been occupying in the shadows, walking toward the group slowly. "With her staying at the mansion, it is the logical decision anyway. I live there; I can watch over her and make sure she endures your absence unharmed."

Anders narrowed his eyes at the man, his lips pursed as he considered the offer. Fenris _was_ trained as a bodyguard, so she would be safe from the Templars with him by her side. Yet, this elf hated mages with a passion, so could he be trusted not to kill her himself? “Will she be safe with you?” he asked, hoping that he could get an answer without having to be blunt.

Fenris’ green eyes met his, and the elf gave a slight nod. “I can assure you that she is safe from any harm from me, and that I will do what is necessary to keep her in good health.”

Garrett looked between the two men for a moment before declaring, “All right, it’s decided then. Fenris stays, everyone else goes. Now I think I need to go get some more to drink.” He made a beeline for the door, followed closely by Varric and Isabela.

Carver was pacing on the other side of the table, mumbling angrily under his breath. Anders tilted his head to the side, watching as he seemed to become more and more riled up. He debated the merits of inquiring what was wrong, never getting the actual chance to ask as the man suddenly turned to him and blurted out, “why would she tell me she is okay with it if she isn’t?”

Aveline slapped a hand to her face, groaning before dismissing herself. Anders watched her go, wishing he could follow, but the blue eyes were boring into him, waiting for an answer. Taking a sip of his cider, he considered his words carefully. “She doesn’t want you to know how worried she is,” he said slowly, waiting for the meaning to sink in. “She’s hiding it, pretending to be strong so as not to burden you further.”

Carver grunted, pulling out a chair and flopping into it. He glared at the table, face twitching in a manner that would have been comical if it weren’t for the gravity of their discussion. “Do you know where she is right now?” Anders inquired gently. Carver exhaled, shaking his head, fingers playing across a dent in the wood. “She’s at the circle, pouring over books. It seems she somehow managed to convince the Knight-Captain that she needed access to their library, so he lets her come and go as she pleases.”

“She _what?_ ” Carver bellowed, sitting up straight and knocking into the table. Anders quickly grabbed his cup as it tipped over, managing to save the vast majority of the liquid inside. “Why in the void would she go to the circle?”

“She’s trying to look up a way to inoculate against the Blight,” Anders answered, a sad smile forming on his face. “I’ve tried to tell her there is no such thing, but she keeps looking. She is positively _frightened_ that one of us will die down there. Her fear increased hundredfold when you told her you were going, too.” He remembered the day she came home from the picnic with Carver, putting on a happy face until the boy left and then slumping onto a nearby cot, dejected. He knew she was worried about him as well, but the fact that he was a Grey Warden at least meant he couldn’t die of the Blight- currently, at least. Carver had no such protection, and it seemed to eat at her more than he suspected it would have. Still, what could he do?

Carver was running his hands through his hair, a horrified look upon his face. “But… how do I make this… better? I can’t _not_ go, this is something we need.” His voice was filled with regret and a little hopelessness, and Anders felt bad for him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any answers,” he replied honestly. “The only one I ever left behind to go to the Deep Roads was Ser Pounce-A-Lot, and it’s not quite the same. Maybe you should talk to her?”

A large hand smacked the table as Carver let out a sigh. “Yeah, I ‘spose I should.”


	19. Chapter 19

_Wham!_

I slammed the dusty old tome shut forcefully, shoving it across the table. It flew across the smooth surface, falling to the floor with a loud crash. I placed my head in my hands, groaning. I was tired and frustrated at my inability to find anything of use. Days I had spent in this library, cooped up with the mages and Templars, surrounded by more magic than I cared to be. I found that with the air so thick with energy I could cause a small spark or flare if I didn't keep a tight leash on my already turbulent emotions. Not that that particular discovery did anything to improve my mood; it just made me determined to avoid the Circle in the future.

Metal clanked toward me, footsteps stopping on the other side of the table. Armor scraped against armor, and I peeked between my fingers to see a blonde head of curls leaning over, most likely picking up the book that fell. "I'm almost frightened to inquire about what the book did to deserve your wrath," Cullen said softly as he straightened up, carefully placing it back on the table.

I let out a rather unladylike snort, leaning back in my chair as I glared at the offending book. "It committed the heinous crimes of being boring as well as unhelpful," I replied, tapping my fingers angrily on the table. "If I were a mage, I'd be tempted to set it on fire. Or whatever."

He gave a small, quiet laugh, a finger sliding across the book's cover almost reverently. "There are many reasons why I am glad that you are not a mage," he started, gesturing to the tranquil librarian. When she came over, he handed her the book, her tone emotionless as she thanked him and green eyes dead. Even the black hair that looked like it used to be beautiful was flat and dull now, and I suppressed a shiver when those empty eyes slid over me. I was relieved when she finally moved away, a feeling that caused guilt to well up in my heart. 

"But the fact that our books are safe from being turned into tinder is another I can yet add to the ever-growing list." I blinked up at him in confusion even as he smiled at me, my brain taking a few clicks to piece together the entire sentence. Once the puzzle was completed, I did a mental double take at its content; dear Maker, was the man _flirting_ with me?

He considered me for another moment before turning and strolling to one of the bookshelves, raising a hand to trail it across the spines of a few books before settling on one, pulling it out. He gazed thoughtfully at the cover before returning to the table, handing it to me. I took it gingerly, reading the title. "Of the Blight and Griffin Wings: Making Sense of Darkspawn and Grey Wardens." My head snapped up to gawk at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "My dear lady, I did not become Knight-Captain by being unobservant. Every tome you have studied in here has been in relation to the Blight." I froze; I had led him to believe I wanted to further my studies to possibly become a Templar, which had nothing to do with the Blight. It turned out that the Circle's library was accessible to anyone as long as they submitted a request, which had to be approved by either Meredith or Cullen. It hadn't taken much work to convince him, and I had been coming to the Gallows daily for about a week since he granted me access. I had also been making sure to stop and attempt at small talk with him whenever I saw him, trying to cultivate him as a potential ally and possible friend. We were both terrible at it, so our conversations never lasted long.

I felt something cold and heavy settle on my hand, and I looked down to see his gauntlet-covered hand on top of mine. "It is fine, Serrah Pendragon. Your choice of literature, while odd, is not concerning and thus does not null the permission I granted." He smiled kindly at me, and I weakly returned it.

"Knight-Captain! One of the recruits was caught sneaking out of the larder with extra... Oh, sorry, ser!" A harried looking female templar stopped short of where I sat, eyes wide as she looked at us. I felt pity at the fear that was painted across her face; poor thing must have been concerned about interrupting something important.

Cullen let out a soft sigh, retracting his hand and turning to her. "Ser Layla, meet me in my office. We shall discuss it there." She gave him a salute, pivoting abruptly and marching off in the direction that I assumed his office was in. He watched her until she disappeared around a corner, turning back to me with an apologetic smile. "It appears I have some poor recruit to discipline. Good luck in your studies, Serrah." He gave a small bow before following the path his fellow templar had taken.

Shaking my head, I opened the book in front of me and started scanning through the pages. There _had_ to be something I could do to ensure Carver's survival.

~*~

"My lady?" A hand was shaking my shoulder, and I blinked awake, lifting my head from where it laid atop the pages of the book I had been reading, gazing around blearily. The face of the Knight-Captain descended into my view, and I flinched back slightly; he was standing much too close for my taste. "I apologize to wake you from your nap, but there is a man here asking for you. He has not completed the steps required to have access to the Circle's library, so I came to seek you out. He says it is important."

I rubbed my eyes with the palm of my hand, trying to wipe away the cobwebs that I felt looming around my brain. "'s'it?" I slurred, voice thick with sleep.

"Carver Bloody Hawke, apparently," he responded, tone riddled with amusement. "Unusual second name, in my opinion, but that's what he said." One look at Cullen's face told me that he knew very well that was _not_ Carver's middle name, his eyes dancing in humor. I stood up slowly, groaning as I felt my knees and low back protesting at the uncomfortable position I had been in for an unknown amount of time. I glanced out the window on the other side of the room, eyes widening in shock when I realized the sun was nearly set. Oops.

I reached to grab the book, surprised when Cullen swept it away from me. "I will take care of it. You go ahead; he made it sound rather urgent." I gave him a weak smile in thanks, dodging through the library and down the hallway as fast as I could. One nice thing about the way the Gallows was built was that it was not a tower, so I didn't have a million steps to deal with. I was very thankful for that small kindness, since the rest of Kirkwall was filled to the point of bursting with stairs.

I burst through the doors into the abandoned courtyard, walking quickly down the small flight of stairs to take me to the front where I assumed Carver would be. I only made it a few paces before a hand clamped down on my shoulder and whirled me around to stare into the face of a sneering templar. He was older, bald and had icy blue eyes that he raked up and down my body without bothering to hide it. "Well well," he started, my blood freezing at the sound of his oily voice. "What do we have here? A mage, trying to escape? It will be the brand for you." He let go of my shoulder only to clamp onto my arm, yanking me closer to him. He ran a gauntleted finger down the side of my cheek, and I recoiled at the move, trying to break his grip.

"I am no mage," I spat, twisting my arm in his grasp. "I was visiting the library. Cullen said someone was out here looking for me."

I gasped when I felt the sting of metal against my cheek as he delivered a hard slap, his expression growing cold. "That's _Knight-Captain_ to you, mage whore."

"I'm. Not. A. Mage," I ground out between clenched teeth, one hand over the raw skin of my cheek. The air had started to spark around me, which was definitely not helping my case. "Look, I'll show you my letter of permission from-"

The Templar snarled, raising a fist to punch me square in the nose. I felt the cartilage give way with a sickening crunch, crying out in pain as blood started to gush down my face. "That'll teach you not to lie," he said threateningly, raising his hand again. I flinched, expecting another blow to fall. To my surprise, all I felt was something akin to a cool breeze passing over me. He was staring at me triumphantly, the look fading when I didn't react in whatever manner he had expected of me. "What the..." He muttered, grey eyebrows knitting together. Redirecting his hand, he released another wave of energy, this one much more powerful. It crashed over and through me, and I felt like my insides were liquidated. Despite this, I still didn't react however he expected me to, based on look on his face. He released me in shock, and I crumpled to the ground, curving into a fetal position with a hand on my nose. "What are you?" he asked, his eyes wide as he started to back away.

"Not a bloody mage," a voice growled suddenly. 

A sickening thud rang out, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground immediately after. Arms reached around me, tightening to scoop me up off the ground. I knew who it was the minute he came close, that familiar combination of leather, sunshine and sword oil seeping past the stench of blood that filled my nostrils. Holding my nose in my hands, I sobbed quietly into his chest as he carried me, moving quickly in what I assumed was the direction of the ferry. I used one of my hands to clutch onto his shirt when I felt the telltale rocking of the vessel beneath us as it moved away from the Gallows, trying to pull myself even closer.

When we docked on the other side, he stepped off and walked over to a bench, sitting down and leaning back to try to get a look at me. "Caydee?" he asked softly, brushing a hand through my hair. "Can you walk?" I shook my head vigorously, flinching at the pain the movement caused; my limbs still felt all gooey, and I doubted very much I could manage to do more than sink to the floor like a limp noodle. "Let's get you to Anders," he said, tightening his grip around me as he stood up.

The walk should have taken longer, but I suppose having extremely long legs helps you move faster when you need to. Carver never broke into a run or even a jog, but he kept a brisk pace even as he descended into the unwelcoming Darktown. Before I could comprehend that we had arrived, he had kicked open the door the clinic and stormed inside, shouting at the top of his voice before sitting down on a cot with me in his lap. I heard footsteps hurry in my direction, a loud gasp preceding a warm hand touching my shoulder.

"What happened?" Anders asked, his voice sharp. I was still curled up against Carver's chest with my eyes screwed shut, so I had no idea what he was doing above me. The hand left my shoulder and I heard him walk away, the sound of clinking glass letting me know he was grabbing some sort of potion.

"I went to the Gallows to get her. She was gone all day again. Knight-Captain went inside to get her, but when I found her, she was being beaten by a templar. Bloody asshole broke her nose." Carver was seething with rage; I could hear it in his voice, I could feel it in how tense he was. A hand was placed on my shoulder again, signaling the return of Anders. "Knocked him out, but I plan to go back and finish him off."

I let out a muffled squeak at the prospect, shaking my head a bit too roughly, causing pain to lance through my face. "N-no," I stuttered out, voice small and trembling. "Don't k-kill him." I curled into an even tighter ball, shaking as I continued sobbing.

The hand on my shoulder tried to tug me back, but I resisted, firmly planted in Carver's chest. "Caydee, sweetheart," the soothing voice of Anders came, "I need to be able to see you so I can heal you. Please? I can't guarantee that it'll be straight otherwise."

I let out a whine when Carver shifted his arms. "I'm not gonna let you go," he assured me, working to get me to face Anders. "But you've gotta work with us." Letting out a small sigh, I shakily tried to sit up instead- failing when I crumpled forward. "Whoa, easy, I've got you," Carver said as he caught me, placing a steadying arm across my chest as he arranged me on his lap.

Anders squatted, peering closely at my face as he held up his hands. I felt the tingle of his healing magic start to pass through me, relieved that after he fixed my nose, he went through the rest of it, my muscles coming out of their strange atrophy. "What happened, sweetheart?" he asked as he finished up, eyes filled with concern.

Carver had resumed running his hands through my hair, an action that relaxed both of us. I took a deep breath as I explained my short trip from the library to the templar, the hostile reaction I was met with, and what happened just before Carver knocked him out. Anders deduced that he had cast a cleanse followed by a smite; on their own, each affected mages differently but very noticeably. One right after the other would have caused a series of side effects very obvious in mages: color draining from the face, shaking, sweats, and vomiting, for starters. The fact that I displayed none of these had obviously spooked the templar.

"He threatened to make me tranquil," I muttered, staring at the curtain that led to my room. "Is that... is that something that can happen to me? Can I...." I trailed off, an insidious fear snaking through me. It was not a possibility that had ever crossed my mind, but I had some sort of connection for them the sever, right?

"We suspect so, but there's no way to know for certain," Anders answered quietly as he observed the floor. "But we won't let that happen, I promise you."

"I...I need to go to bed," I whispered, standing up slowly. "I can't... you guys are leaving me tomorrow." I glanced at both of them, surprised to find guilt present on both their faces. "How can you promise that if you won't be here?"

"Fenris is going to stay with you," Anders replied, a nervous smile on his lips as he looked back to me. "He'll keep you safe."

"Sure. Okay." I started to shuffle toward my room, stopping after I had taken a few steps to turn around and look at Carver. "I know you have to leave early in the morning, but... would you...?" I dropped my eyes to the floor, chewing my lip as I willed myself to finish the question.

I didn't need to, for he jumped up off the cot and closed the small distance between us, taking one of my hands in both of us. I peered up at him from under my hair, a hopeful feeling tugging in my chest. "Of course I will, Cay," he answered, gently pulling me toward my room. I bid Anders goodnight, the two of us passing the curtain.

Upon entering, I gazed at the tiny bed, head tilted to the side as I wondered how uncomfortable we were going to be. He peeled off his tunic and trousers, laying them on the chair next the bed and climbed in, shifting so that he was near the edge and on his side. I quickly changed, sliding in to join him. He immediately pulled me back so that I was flush with his chest, an arm draping lazily across my midsection.

"Wake me before you go, please," I asked softly, tears prickling my eyes. I wasn't ready for this; it had came too fast. I had no solution to keep him alive, nothing to keep the blight from taking him. And I had spent the entire last week voluntarily cooped up in the dusty old library in the Gallows instead of spending it with him.

Oh, what I wouldn't give to take that back.

"Of course," he breathed, placing a kiss in my hair. "I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye."


	20. Chapter 20

The night was rough, nightmares plaguing me, but the morning came too soon. He awoke and dressed, his movements waking me without him ever needing to lift a hand. I watched him get ready, determined not to break down until after he had left. He didn't need that as his last memory of me.

He leaned down to kiss me, making sure to leave me breathless when we parted. "I love you," he whispered as he touched our foreheads together. "I'll see you when I get back. Then I'll be rich and can give you everything you deserve."

"The only thing I want is your safe return, Carver," I said, placing another soft kiss on his lips. "That's all I ask, is for you to come back to me."

"I will," he said, giving me a hug.

I clutched to him, willing myself to remain strong. "I love you too."

Releasing me, he rose and strode over to the curtain, stopping to flash me a confident smile, waving. "Goodbye, Caydee."

"Bye," I choked out, watching as the curtain fell behind him. I heard when Anders joined him in the clinic, the two departing through the door to leave me alone.

That's when I let the tears fall, reaching over to grab my phone to look at a picture of us, knowing it was probably the last time I'd see Carver as my boyfriend, and not as a Warden.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture commissioned for this story and drawn by Akadio, who is both on Tumblr and Deviantart.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters will be a bit different, as I'm going to try to follow both Caydee and the DRE group via a journal.

 "Get up."

Opening my eyes, I blinked at the blurry face that had appeared in front of me. "Oh, hi, Fffffffffenris," I slurred, giggling at him. "Three'f you." I squinted, still giggling, as I pointed clumsily at each vision of the elf in front of me. If I squinted just right, they would all merge into one exceedingly blurry Fenris, but I liked having three of him to look at, so I didn't bother with that much.

He scoffed, clamping a hand around my forearm and pulling me to my feet, much gentler than his tone led me to believe he would. "You are supposed to be staying at my house while your brother is away, or did you forget that fact already?" I shook my head, losing my balance and stumbling forward. Swift arms caught me, wrapped under my armpits as he did what he could to help stabilize my feet. It was a lost cause, however; as soon as he let go I pitched forward, falling to my hands and knees roughly. I remained like that for only a moment before collapsing onto the dirt floor, my inebriated state making me both laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation and cry at the reason I was drunk in the first place.

"Kaffas, woman," he muttered under his breath, and I felt arms flip me over onto my back before sliding under my neck and knees, pulling me off the ground. I blinked past the tears crowding my vision to give him a confused look, but he neither bothered to explain what he was doing nor why. Belatedly I noticed that he was walking us toward the front of the clinic, and I wrapped my arms around his neck for added support.

"Wha?" I asked dazedly as we made our way out through the door, him trotting down the stairs in front of the clinic with relative ease. "Where?"

"I am bringing you back to my mansion," was all he offered, turning sharply to duck into a dark alleyway, walking down a path I had never been before. I laid my head on his shoulder, resigned to my fate, and closed my eyes. He was moving much faster than I could handle, my inability to focus on an object in real time only causing my head to throb. He halted suddenly, pressing me up against something to allow him to drop a hand and search for something. There was a click and then his arm returned back around my shoulders, and I peeked to see we were now inside a tunnel. Even though I was curious, I chose not to ask and he did not elaborate, so I simply shut my eyes again, not bothering to speculate where we were as he climbed stairs and passed through doors.

I felt myself starting to drift off, the alcohol making me drowsy, as usual. I was nearly asleep when he leaned over, and I felt myself placed on something soft. "Go to sleep," he said quietly, though not unkindly, and I rolled over, unable to argue.

* * *

 

_6th of Kingsway_

_We've only been underground for three days, and I'm already sick of this shit. How the dwarves live under the stone all the time is lost on me, but my brother seems to be thriving. Of course, he's a ~~nug-humping bastard~~ true dwarf at heart._

_Hawke and Junior keep bickering about every little thing that comes up, no matter who tries to tell them to stop. It almost makes me glad that we left Broody behind, because I'm not sure any of us could handle hostile banter between him and Blondie right now._

_I hope Broody is being nice to Starling. Out of all of us, he is the last one I would have chosen to stay with her. I think Junior should've stayed, but the choice did not rest with me._

_We've arrived at an impasse, and have decided to camp for the night here. Tomorrow Hawke and I will be taking the rest of our group to go hunt for another route, hopefully something easy._

~~_I swear if Bartrand tosses another insult my way I'll_ ~~ _The rest of camp is closing down, and I have first watch. Hopefully nothing too exciting will happen tonight.  
_

_Varric Tethras, 9:31 Dragon_

* * *

 

 "Are you ever going to stop drinking?"

I snorted incredulously into the bottle I had been chugging from, lowering it as I cast a glare in the direction of my current landlord. "Oh, because _you're_ one to speak. You drink alllll the time but that's fine. But what, I'm not allowed to?" I took another swig before setting the bottle down aggressively on the floor in front of me, wiping the droplets that had remained on my lips off with the back of my hand.

Fenris rolled his eyes at me, leaning in the doorway of the room. I had taken up near-permanent residence up in his library, working on organizing and then reading through the mountains of books he had, a rather difficult thing to accomplish when I was in a practically constant state of drunkenness. I was currently sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, my back against the front of a dusty sofa with a random book open in front of me.

"What I choose to do is of no concern to you; this is my home. You, however, are too young to waste your life in this way." He pushed off the frame, taking quick strides over to where I was seated and reaching out to snatch the bottle from where I had sat it. I realized too late what he was doing, my sluggish reaction no match for his reflexes. Before my hand had even passed over where the bottle was, he had picked it up and already strode across the room to disappear into the hallway.

My hand swiped through the now empty space and I placed it on the ground, leaning forward and shifting so that my forehead was against the rug. I took in a couple of deep breaths before pushing myself up, grabbing on the arm of the sofa to shakily rise to my feet. Stumbling around the furniture blocking my route to the door, I made my way out of the study and toward the set of stairs the led to the guest rooms of the mansion, deciding that if Fenris was going to try to police me, I would rather be alone in my room. I tripped and fell over at one point, lapsing into a fit of giggles and crawling the remaining distance. Once I was at the top, I debated the merits of standing back up before deciding it was too much of a hassle, and so I made my way to the bedroom I was being allowed to occupy, my hands and knees dragging over the wood as I went.

Once inside, I leaned up against the end of the bed, one hand lazily reaching under it to fetch my bag. Fenris had carried me here in a drunken stupor a few days ago, not thinking to grab anything. In one of my more lucid moments, I had made my way back to the clinic and had packed what I needed, as well as a few things I didn't- like my phone. I kept digging around until I felt my skin slide across cloth, leaning down further until I could catch the cloth between my fingers and yank it toward me. Once the bag was out and situated between my splayed legs, I dug around until I pulled out two things: my phone and a rough sketchpad I had purchased a few weeks prior. I'm most certainly not an amazing artist by any stretch of the imagination, but the occasional doodle sometimes helped me to de-stress.

I opened my phone and put some music on, locking it and then pushing the home button ever so slightly to bring up my lock screen. There he was, arm around my back and head leaned on mine as he smirked at the camera with me, never quite giving me a full smile when I would take a picture of us. The screen darkened and I hastily clicked it on again, a small smile forming even as I felt tears start to roll down my cheeks.

"Where is that music coming from?"

I jumped at the voice in the doorway; blasted elf and his silent steps, always able to sneak up on me. In my hurry to get to my bag I had completely forgotten to shut the door and for whatever reason, Fenris had followed me. I stared at him owlishly, unsure how to answer. I had no idea how to broach the idea of it coming from a piece of foreign technology, or even if he would take it well. So instead of attempting an explanation, I held out the device to him. He raised an eyebrow, staring at it distrustfully, before taking a few steps forward and gingerly taking it from me.

I watched as he held it up to his ear, the lyrics to Second Chance by Shinedown crooning at him. Pulling it away, he frowned and examined it, running his fingers along its edges and peeking in the holes at the bottom. He pushed gently on the lock button on the side, fumbling and nearly dropping it when the screen lit up. His own tattoos flared to life in his surprise, but he deftly caught it and his eyes widened when he glimpsed the picture of Carver and myself.

"Is this a form of magic?" he asked, looking up at me from underneath his lashes. He seemed unwilling to tear his gaze away from the phone for long, a suspicious look written across his face.

I shook my head, rubbing at my temples to try to fend off the headache I felt forming. "No. Technology," I responded, watching as he poked the button again, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

"Dwarven?" He tilted his head curiously as the song ended, the piano opening to Fix You (the Glee cast version because I'm a dweeb) starting up almost immediately after.

"No, it's human-made." He snapped his eyes back up to my, brow furrowing in thought.

"This is unlike any thing I have seen. Yet it is not magic?"

Chuckling, I shook my head again, wiping away the last remaining proof of tears on my cheeks. "No, it is not magic. Where I come from, pretty much everyone has one. It's called a phone, and it does so much more than music." I motioned him over to sit next to me, still not trusting my legs to do what they were designed to do. He dithered momentarily before closing the distance between us, lowering himself gracefully down to the floor and offering it back to me. I took it, turning it over in my hands a few moments before unlocking it, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. He was watching my phone screen avidly, eyes devouring whatever I did with a type of hungry curiosity. Quirking an eyebrow and feeling the side of my lip tilt up, I opened my photos and slowly flipped through the ones of myself and Carver, trying to hold back the sadness that threatened to overtake me whenever I thought of him.

"This phone... it creates mini-portraits, also? It looks so... _real_."

"They're called pictures, but yes. They're... they're going to be the only memories I have left of him, just like my children." His eyes flitted over to me, surprise evident on his face. "It-it's a long story," I said lamely, struggling with the emotions running through my body. It was going to be a losing battle, the alcohol in my system making me even more emotional than normal.

"One I would like to hear. Perhaps when you are sober?" I nodded weakly at him, and he stood up, reaching down to offer me his hand. "You should rest. We can discuss this more later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH I'm sorry about how long this update took, I was struggling with massive writer's block that affected ALL of my writing, then I had a wonderful depression session, and then it felt like I was pulling teeth to get this chapter out.
> 
> But here it is, and hopefully we are back on track. Again, sorry.


	22. Chapter 22

_9th of Kingsway_

_Well, that was a shitshow. We discovered a passage around the impasse, but it required fighting through copious amounts of darkspawn and an alarmingly large spider. Hawke also agreed to look for Bodahn's son, a simple boy, but I can't say that I honestly had any hope of finding him. So imagine my surprise when not only did we find him alive, but ass-deep in a room full of dead darkspawn with a single, crystallized ogre to his side. When asked how he managed to do it, he replied "boom" about the darkspawn, and "not enchantment" regarding the ogre. Whatever, kid, as long as you're okay._

_It took us two days of fighting through the blighters before Blondie halted us, declaring that we successfully found a path that led to where the expedition needed to go. It was only a day to travel back, having recently cleared out the passages, but I shudder to think how long it will take to traverse the twisting, rocky paths we found with a full caravan._

_I only wish we could take the ogre back with us. The amount of gold that would fetch would probably be more than anything else we could find down here._

_Varric Tethras, 9:31 Dragon_

 

* * *

 

The air was laden with the smell of elfroot and embrium, the rich aroma simultaneously comforting and stimulating. A crisp breeze blew through the trees, causing the multi-colored leaves to rustle on their branches, a few becoming loose and twirling to the ground. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the crisscrossed branches, dancing across the forest floor, lighting my way as I trudged through, determined to find the source of the smell.

Shivering, I pulled the threadbare coat I had found in Anders' closet tighter around me, wishing that I had my two-layered winter coat from Earth instead. The temperature had taken a dive over the last few days, and since I normally run cold, it had affected me rather more than I'd have liked. I had been assured that winters in Kirkwall were mild, but that did little to assuage my concern that I needed a proper coat. Hence, my trip through one of the wooded areas on Sundermount in search of herbs that I could use to make healing poultices to sell. 

The aroma grew in intensity, alerting me that I was close. I paused for a moment, gazing around me before deciding to crash through a bunch of knotted branches, leading me directly where I wanted to go. Shoving the remaining twigs out of the way, I stood up straight, mouth open as I stared in awe at the beauty of the small meadow before me. A small creek ran through, providing the mixture of grass, embrium and elfroot with the hydration they needed, the sound of the rushing water relaxing. The cliff face at the end of the field was covered in ivy, majestically trailing along the grey stone to disappear over the top.

Smiling to myself, I crouched down and started to pluck the leaves off of the elfroot, wondering briefly if they'd have enough time to grow again before winter set in. Now that I knew about this place, I'd have to return to check. 

I worked quickly, racing against the sun as it slowly dropped through the sky. I knew that soon it would be difficult to make my way through the forest- at least until the moons sailed high in the night, if they were full enough to cast light through the thick grouping of trees. By the time I finished the last embrium flower, the sun had nearly set. Securing my bags so that nothing would spill, I set a brisk pace through the forest, going as fast as I could without risk of falling. Luckily I had done nothing to hide my path to the clearing and was able to fairly easily navigate my way back without trouble. As I stepped back out onto the rocky roads near the base of the mountain, the evening's last ray of light disappeared, leaving the sky to darken quickly. 

I took a deep breath of the chilly air, allowing myself a brief reprieve and watching as the stars made their appearances in the velvety blue above. One by one, they winked into existence in the night sky, forming patterns and constellations that I was still unfamiliar with. I missed the days when I could take a finger and lazily trace the Big Dipper, Cassiopeia or Orion without a second thought, their familiarity and consistency in the seasonal skies taken for granted. Sighing, I rolled my shoulders before heading back down the trail, trying not to dwell on what I missed about home too much.

There was a soft flicker of blue off to my left followed by the sound of soft footsteps joining next to mine, and I didn't need to look to know who had joined me. The light was unnecessary, but I believe he used it to let me know he was approaching so as not to cause me a fright. I had been making trips like this nearly daily, and he had been following at a distance, for the most part, to make sure that nothing happened that would cause him to break his word. To my credit, I had yet to need his help, although had I made my way out of the forest any later, I would have been reduced to asking for his keen elvhen eyes to help direct us safely through the woods.

"Are you well?" Fenris' voice, usually so steady and full of confidence, wavered just the tiniest bit; enough to let me know that he was unsure how to approach this topic.

"I'm fine," I answered, a little too sharply. I saw his dark shape out of the corner of my eye stiffen slightly, and I ran my hand through my hair, letting out a frustrated puff of air. Why did I have to be so inadequate with social interactions? "I'm sorry, I didn't mean... Yes, I'm okay, thanks for asking."

"Good," he replied, letting silence fall between us as we made our way down the winding path that led to Kirkwall. Despite him following me, I had been doing my best to avoid him, letting my anxiety about how to explain my phone and everything it entailed steer me away from speaking to him, and I gather that he knew by the way he'd been hesitant about initiating any sort of conversation with me recently. It was going to be harder now, as my phone had died a few days ago. When I realized that my human charger had left and that I had no way to charge it myself, I had stopped using it, except to look at the picture of Carver and me once in the morning and once at night. I was impressed by the fact that it managed to last a week like this (something that I don't believe would have happened on Earth) before finally turning off, but saddened nonetheless because that was the only thing I had to remember him and my children by.

He shifted slightly beside me and I heard a small intake of breath, a small hint that he was about to speak. "Would you like... help making your potions?" I paused, looking over at him in confusion. As far as I knew, Fenris never offered to help with something like this. He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, not meeting my eyes but rather looking somewhere over my shoulder as he continued, "perhaps we could speak then, as well?"

Ah. So _that's_ what this was about. I sighed, turning back to the gates that we were approaching at a rapid pace, chewing on my lip in thought. "Well, I wouldn't turn down help, but I want to look for more for a few days yet," I finally said, passing through into the city and turning in the direction of the lift to Darktown. "I plan to put these in the cupboard with the cooling rune so that they'll last for a bit and try to collect as much as I can. Then I can sell it all in one fell swoop and maybe have enough to get a couple of coats."

"Is that what this has been about? You need a coat?" He stopped me, reaching out and touching my sleeve, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. "Yes, I suppose you do. There are some scattered around the mansion you could have. I have no use for so many."

I shook my head, the side of my lips quirking up into a small smile. "Thank you, but I'd rather earn my own for now. At least it gives me something to do. Anders needs one too, anyway, and I'm not sure you're feeling _that_ charitable."

To my surprise, he let out a huff of laughter, smooth and deep, like a cello. "You would be surprised," was all he said before placing a hand on the small of my back to push me forward slightly, thus moving us onward.

I raised an eyebrow, the smile growing larger on my face as I glanced at him. "Yes, I think I would be."

 

* * *

 

_15th of Kingsway_

_Finally made it through the passage, but not before we had to kill a few stragglers that we had apparently missed. Hawke and Junior are no longer on speaking terms, but this suits all of us just fine- better sullen silence than constant bickering._

_I'm worried about Blondie. Being down here is wearing on him more than the rest of us - he grows more jumpy and twitchy with every passing moment, and I'm beginning to doubt that he is getting much, if any, sleep at all. The circles under his eyes are darker every morning, and his magic is growing wilder. Hawke has noticed and is doing what he can to help him, but I'm not sure there's anything we can do besides hurry out._

_I think Junior may be regretting coming down here. He seems to be a bit under the weather himself, a little slower than usual and constantly rubbing his head when he thinks no one's looking. He's also engaged Blondie in a few conversations about Starling and what he plans to do when he gets back. He's got some big plans, it seems. If there's one person our Junior doesn't want to let down, it's her.  
_

_We seem to be approaching a large cavern up ahead, and beyond that I can make out what appears to be a set of gilded doors. Hopefully this means we will be reaching our destination soon so we can get out of these forsaken tunnels._

_Varric Tethras, 9:31 Dragon_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies about how slow I've been getting this out. I just wish to give a heads-up that we're heading quickly into the busy time of year for me, when things pick up at work and at home, so my updates are probably going to become more sporadic. I'm still going to do my best to have semi-regular postings, but I can't promise anything. Thank you for reading this far! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you... *gasp* hate it? Let me know! I'm always open for reviews, comments and helpful criticism.  
> I'm here to grow. :)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr as StarlingHawke


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